Book III Chapt I It All Leads to SO
by wanderingchat
Summary: This is a repeat of Chapt 1, Book III


The characters and events involving the Sons of Anarchy are the creation of Kurt Sutter.

No copyright infringement is intended.

Any use of lyrics and the mention of songs and performers in this text is also not intended to infringe upon any copyrights held by any of the artists.

All original characters that are not part of the SOA universe are products of my own imagination. Any similarities to real persons are pure coincidence.

Love and thanks go to the DH, who is very much alive and well; along with my best friend and my 'unofficial' god – daughter for being part of my family. Also, much thanks to the members of , , the Indy Tarts and Tartans Gerard Butler fan group, SOA Forums, Watchers of Anarchy, Kim Sisk (author of Sapphires and Whiskey), and my Facebook and Twitter friends for their support. A big thank you for those readers who have written reviews and listed me as a favorite author here at FanFiction. Net.

Finally, much thanks to Mr. Kurt Sutter for creating the SOA universe in the first place, and to Mr. Kim Coates for his excellent portrayal of Alex 'Tig' Trager.

**Charming Pawse **

**Book III**

**It All **

**Leads to SO**

Alex was reluctant to leave Cat's side the evening Sack died and Abel was taken by Cameron Hayes. Just going for a quick piss or another beer was too much time away for his liking, as if he feared he'd return to find that her presence in the house had only been a dream.

He made sure she ate some chili and was rewarded to see some color returning to her pale features. As usual, she didn't eat enough to satisfy him; he knew she was tired from her endeavors on the club's behalf. 'She did too damn fuckin' much for us again, and we keep lettin' her!' he fumed inwardly. 'Shit, what am I sayin'? _I_ keep lettin' her!' A wry smile crossed his face. 'Not that she gives me much of a say in the matter!'

"If y'all want the rest of this, go ahead," she murmured, handing her half – empty bowl to him. "Y'all can doctor it up the way ya want it."

"Can't you manage a little more, baby? You barely ate enough to keep a mouse goin'!" he protested.

She shook her head, tiredly leaning against his shoulder and closing her eye.

'I'll just keep it handy in case she wants more later.' He placed the bowl on the table next to the recliner and slid one hand inside the back of her shirt, enjoying the feel of her bare skin against his palm.

'I dunno why she's not wearin' the binder. Sure won't complain about the lack of a titsling! Not that I can take advantage of it with an audience!'

Cat was content to be able to be around him away from the hospital. Once in awhile she was choose to lounge on the floor in front of the recliner and lean against his legs.

"Baby, why do you insist on sittin' down there?" He whispered once when she'd slid from his lap and settled against his legs. "It can't be as comfortable as I am!"

"You're not a piece of furniture, love!" she'd protested.

As the evening progressed, she began to wonder if she'd made the right decision in not inviting the croweaters. 'Maybe it's not fair to the unattached men. They're hurtin' as much as Tig, Opie, and Jax. Maybe they could use a little companionship at a time like this!'

While Alex made a bathroom run, Cat decided to put her mind at rest about the matter. As she took her leftover bowl of chili to the refrigerator, she found Piney in the kitchen, helping himself to another helping of chili. She quietly asked his opinion.

"No, honey. The croweaters don't need to be here. This isn't a party, it's a family gathering. You, Tara, and Lyla are our family."

Clay walked up for another beer and overheard their conversation. "The old man's right. If the guys want sex, they can stop drinkin' and go back to the clubhouse for it."

Cat gazed from Piney to Clay. "I just want to make sure all y'all are comfortable. Didn't want anybody feelin' left out."

Clay slipped an avuncular arm around her shoulders, kissing her bruised cheek. "Nobody's feelin' left out, Cat. You've done plenty for us tonight. More than you should've. So no more talk of callin' in the croweaters."

"Don't try to argue with him, honey. This might be your place, but Clay's still the prez. What he says, goes," Piney added.

Cat looked over at Juice, Bobby, and Happy. The trio were sitting at the table, drinking, eating, and talking about Sack. 'They seem content, and I'm too tired to argue about it,' she nodded reluctant acceptance of Clay's edict.

Clay returned to the table with his beer and motioned for her to join them. Piney offered his seat to her; she shook her head and stood near the table, leaning against the wall and listening to their conversation.

Bobby was rehashing the story about the fight Kip was supposed to lose. The Sons had bet against him in order to make enough money to pay the IRA bill that was due at the time.

"Cherry, the Nevada croweater he'd fallen for, was sitting in the audience, right next to Clay. Sack kept watching her and got real incensed when she hugged Clay. Unfortunately, he misunderstood the gesture and beat the tar out of his opponent. We lost a shitload of money!" Bobby stated.

"Except for me," Cat interjected with a grin. "I couldn't believe y'all would bet against one of yer own. I had a Hell of a time convincin' Tig to place my bet _on _Kip instead of his opponent. Turned out I was right!"

"Don't rub it in, Cat," Bobby moaned. Though she'd given the club her winnings, it still bothered him that the club's coffers took a hit from Sack's inadvertent win.

Alex walked up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders and guiding her to rest against him instead of the wall. "She's stubborn when she thinks she's right. She always bets on a sure thing!"

Juice looked up with a challenging grin. "Oh, really? Then why did she hook up with you?"

"Because I always bet on a sure thing!" Cat replied, smiling sweetly at Juice.

"I think I've been told!" Juice exclaimed.

"I _know _you've been told!" Alex retorted, giving her a gentle nudge towards the recliner.

Jax had appropriated one of the bottles of whiskey and drank steadily from it, ignoring the bowl Tara set before him. He appeared to be listening to the conversation, but didn't take part in it. Tara sat next to him, toying with her own chili and sipping coffee.

"The morning after Donna was killed, I was pulling up to Opie's house, and Kip was already there," Mary related softly. "He was putting away dishes the neighbors brought over and answering the phone. Nobody asked or told him to do it, he just pitched right in to help."

Lyla and Opie were also sitting at the table. Opie remained silent most of the time, drinking beer and enjoying the chili and camaraderie. On occasion, he would lean over to speak to Jax, who nodded or shook his head before returning to his whiskey.

Lyla had started the evening in a lively, vivacious mood, greeting the men with hugs and kisses when they entered the house. They had responded with a cursory greeting to her, but then maintained their distance, dampening her mood. Lyla spent the remainder of the evening pouting and casting an occasional glare at Cat and the SAMCRO men.

'I don't like the looks of that,' Piney watched Lyla out of the corner of his eye, becoming more concerned with each passing minute. 'She took too much liberty, made the guys uncomfortable. If this was Ope's, there wouldn't have been a problem. We weren't and she wasn't, but there's not gonna be any tellin' _her_ that!'

It became evident to Piney that Lyla's attitude was rubbing Tig the wrong way. 'I can't blame him for gettin' annoyed with Lyla's attitude, he's about to blow a gasket. Ope won't take it well if Tig goes off on his girl.'

The next time Opie got up from the table for a refill, Piney motioned his son over. "I think Lyla needs to go home. She's not happy with bein' ignored by the guys. There's plenty of tension between her and Tara. Cat could be her next target and she's not up to dealin' with that tonight."

"I was thinkin' the same thing, Dad. Tig looks like he's ready to go ballistic," Opie gave his father a hug, then walked over to Jax and leaned over the stricken VP, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm headin' out. Taking' Lyla home. You know how to reach me if you need anything."

Jax reached a hand up to Opie's and squeezed it. "Thanks, bro."

"Have Tara take you home tonight; you're in no condition to ride." Opie then walked over to Cat and held out a hand to her. "Thanks for doing this, Lady Cat. I'm headin' out to the clubhouse with Lyla; wanna get the kids and go home."

'That's not the only reason y'all wanna get outta here,' Cat mused, accepting the hand he held out to her. She gazed intently at the rider while grasping his hand in a firm grip. "You're both welcome to stay as long as y'all want."

Opie grinned wryly. "Don't want to wear out our welcome. Besides, I really need to see my kids."

Cat smiled warmly. "Can't say I blame y'all for feelin' that way."

Opie nodded at her. "Be seeing you." He clapped Alex on the back and started to shepherd Lyla towards the door.

"I'm not ready to leave yet, Opie! You go ahead, I'll ride back with Mary later!" she protested hotly. "Besides, _somebody's_ gotta clean up tonight! It's not as if anyone else will – or can!"

Cat felt Alex's muscles tighten in anger at Lyla's implied critique. Before he could snarl at the girl, she seized the moment to soothe the actress' ruffled feathers. "Thanks for your help tonight, Lyla. Losin' Abel can be scary for any parent. I'm sure y'all would rather go hug your little one than stay here and do drudge work."

Lyla stared at Cat, surprised at the other woman's sincerity in comparison to the snarling anger she'd received earlier that day. 'I wasn't really that nice to her at the time, and I _do_ want to see Piper.' The actress smiled hesitantly in response. "That's true, and Ope's just as worried about his kids. Good night, then."

Cat walked the couple to the door so they could leave without Ebony making an escape. She stood in front of the screen door, watching the pair walk across the front lawn to Opie's bike.

"Glad that gash is outta here!" Alex murmured in her ear, coming up to stand behind her as she closed the door. "She stepped way outta bounds this evening, actin' like she was queen of the joint and playin' up to the guys!"

"Let it go, love," she replied wearily. "She's a youngster and still tryin' to find her way. She needs time to get used to all of this."

Alex shook his head in disbelief. "You're bein' too forgiving! Believe me, if the situation were reversed - "

"Well it's not, so just leave it alone!" Cat interjected, her good eye flashing with anger. She winced at how sharp her voice sounded. "Sorry, love. I didn't mean to snap."

"It's a'right, baby," he nuzzled her neck and kissed his way from there to the skin behind her ear. "Maybe I'm not furniture, but I'm more comfortable than the damn floor!" He led her back to the recliner and drew her onto his lap, holding her safe and secure against his chest.

"Remember when Sack stole the ambulance?" Bobby mentioned to Tig, hoping to redirect attention from Cat's momentary flare of temper.

"Yeah. We thought he was nuts, until Clay and I went to that meet with Cameron Hayes and Hayes got shot in the ass! The ambulance came in handy!" Tig laughed outright though he was also watching Jax for any reaction.

Jax didn't seem to hear what was going on around him. He simply threw back another swallow of whiskey.

"First and only time I've ever had my hand _on _ another man's ass!" Juice added.

"I wish to Hell I'd never patched up the bastard!" Tara snarled, walking back into the living room from the guest bathroom. "Maybe then - "

"Don't do that to yourself, Tara," Clay admonished from the recliner across from Tig's. "You patched him up because we needed your help and you gave it. It's what you do as a healer." Clay glared at his step – son. 'He should be the one telling the doc all this!'

"What kind of healer am I?" Tara cried. "I couldn't keep Sack from dying!"

"Tara," Cat stood up and walked over to the younger woman. "Y'all said earlier that Kip's injury was fatal and there was no way to save him. People die. It's a part of Life. Doctors can't always keep that from happening."

"Maybe so, but if I'd not acted like a coward and let Hayes tie me up, Abel might still be with us!"

"And _maybe_ we'd be holdin' a wake fer both you and Kip!" Cat retorted. "Y'all are thinkin' ya should've banged the asshole with the fry pan or somethin', Tara, and that's all fine and dandy in hindsight. It's cloudy judgment. Why in Hell d'ya think it's called 20/20 hindsight?"

"I didn't see _you_ backing down from Stahl this evening!"

"I also wasn't starin' down the barrel of a frackin' gun!" Cat snarled. "Hayes had just skewered Kip and could've done the same to ya with little or no provocation. Yer damn lucky to be alive, so quit feelin' responsible. The one responsible is Stahl!"

"You got that right!" Happy added gruffly, stepping forward in support.

"Yeah," Bobby added. "If Stahl hadn't spun that lie, knowing Cameron was listening in, Sack would still be alive and Abel wouldn't be missing and Gemma wouldn't be on the lam."

"So enough with beatin' yerself up, kid," Cat added, embracing the younger woman and glaring over the girl's shoulder at her old man. 'Damn wanker should be the one comfortin' her! I know he's hurtin' over his boy, but he should be helpin' her, not havin' a damn pity party!'

Clay rose and stood next to the doctor, placing one hand on her shoulder. "Stahl's guilty. No one blames you." He glared significantly at Jax, who was too focused on his booze to notice.

Tara relaxed, drawing comfort from their assurances. 'They're sweet to defend me. If only I could be sure Jax agrees with them! He's so quiet! Doesn't he realize I'm hurting, too?'

Cat extricated herself from Tara's embrace and headed down the hallway.

"You a'right, baby? Need any help?" Tig called worriedly.

"Yes and no," she replied, waving off Alex's concerned inquiry. "I'll be back in a bit." The over – the – counter pain reliever had worn off and she also needed to use the facilities.

She closed the door to the bathroom with a sigh of relief, enjoying the quiet and relative darkness broken only by the night lite. She shook out another couple of pills, washing them down with water.

On her way back out of the master bath, she gazed wistfully at the bed. 'Damn, a lie – down would be welcome right now. But that's not possible with a houseful of guests.' She squared her shoulders and returned to the group.

"Sum days yer tha Beamer, sum days yer tha deer is whot 'e said aboot tha'!" Chibs supplied

from the couch. He'd gotten up long enough to use the other bathroom, then helped himself to a bottle of whiskey, which he'd taken back to the couch with him. Unlike Jax, Chibs chose to drink straight from the bottle.

"Yeah, and then he stank up the clubhouse with that damn deer head!" Clay groused. "The joint smelled like a garbage bin!"

"What's all this about a deer and a Beamer and Kip?" Cat asked, leaning against the entry to the living and dining area.

"It happened before we hooked up, baby. A BMW was towed in, a deer had gone through the windshield," Alex explained. "Sack cut the deer apart to get it outta the car, and decided he wanted to have the head stuffed for mounting on the wall. He made that comment just before he started cutting up the deer."

"I take it no one told him it's best to put somethin' like that on ice, eh?" she grinned.

The men lifted their glasses in a silent toast to Prospect. They weren't shit – faced, but they weren't sober as judges either. Cat had put Chuckie in charge of collecting everyone's keys when they'd entered the house.

"No one's riding under the influence on my watch!" She explained defensively to Alex when he saw the bowlful of bike keys on the kitchen counter and asked about it.

"Hell, baby, I don't blame ya for takin' precautions! Today was a clusterfuck and everything was all over the fuckin' news! No way we could've decompressed at the clubhouse tonight," he'd observed approvingly.

Cat noticed that Jax had become quite glassy – eyed. 'He's gettin' comfortably numb. Tara can get him home, the others are startin' to wean themselves, so they'll be OK to ride. Guess our place won't look like a motorcycle dealership.'

Alex grew more concerned about Cat as the night progressed. He knew she was in pain, her body trembled under his hand and her face had turned pale again. "You could've stayed in the bedroom and rested awhile, baby," he whispered. "You don't have to play hostess."

"I _want_ to be here, love. Wouldn't be able to rest knowin' all y'all were out here gettin' into Gawd only knows what kind of mischief!"

Alex favored her with an innocent expression that stated 'Who, me?'.

"Yeah, you, Man of Mischief!" she laughed.

"That's 'Man of Mayhem'!" he retorted.

"Whatever," she shrugged. "I'm feelin' a little claustrophobic, gonna go sit in the back yard, get a little fresh air."

He started to follow her to the back door, but she held up a palm in a gesture that clearly said 'halt!'

"You sure, baby?"

She nodded. "Please, love. Give me a few moments alone, OK?"

He nodded agreement, though a part of him still didn't want to let her out of his sight. 'Shit, what's gonna happen in our own back yard for fuck's sake? Zobelle and Weston are history!'

He got up to retrieve another beer and a shot of whiskey while keeping a watchful eye on her. He relaxed his vigilance when she settled into one of the lawn chairs without incident.

"Tig, ya gotta minute?" Happy inquired, pouring himself a healthy dose of whiskey to go with his beer.

"What's up, brother?"

"Your old lady's guard around me," Happy replied, jerking his head towards the back yard. "I make her nervous."

"Ya try talkin' to her? She's pretty open minded."

Happy grinned mischievously. "Must be, to put up with you!"

"Watch it!" Tig growled good naturedly.

"Honest, Tig. I don't wanna be scarin' your old lady every time she's around me. I'm comin' back to the mother charter."

"Your Mom's not gettin' any better?"

Happy shook his head. "I've got her in hospice care nearby, but it ain't lookin' good. All I can do now is keep her comfortable."

'Happy's soft spot is his mom; he's as close to her as Cat is to her dad.' Tig's eyes clouded over at the news and his hand stroked the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry to hear that, brother. Got anyone to talk to about it?"

"Those damn support groups don't take too kindly to me," Happy shrugged.

"Cat might be a good sounding board. Her dad has prostrate cancer. He's survived it over two decades, but he had a close call recently."

"That the reason you two took off for a week?"

Tig took a pull at his beer. "Nah. We went to a reunion for some radio folks she worked with. We spent most of our time afterward gettin' her dad's house in order. He had a nasty fall a week after our return, went to the hospital, then spent about six weeks in the nursing home in rehab."

Happy shook his head and whistled soundlessly. "Man! How'd she take it?"

"She was scared. He told her to stay here, only time I've _ever_ seen her obey a man," Tig replied ruefully. "He pulled through and is back home; gets regular home health care and 'Meals on Wheels' and holdin' his own real well."

Happy glanced out the back door at Cat, who was stretched out in the lawn chair, gazing at the stars overhead. "Wouldn't know it to look at her! And after being badly injured a couple of days ago, she did this for us tonight!" His tone reflected his admiration.

Tig clasped Happy's shoulder. "Ya oughta go talk to her. For one, she'll listen. For another, it'll help her see your bark is worse than your bite."

Happy glanced at Tig, then back at Cat. "H mm. You might be right. You don't mind?"

"Shit! Think I'd make the offer if I minded?"

Happy grinned and turned away, taking his beer with him to the back yard.

Cat closed the back door behind her and limped slowly to one of the lawn chairs. She stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned her head back, looking into the stars overhead. 'Lord, whatever else is on your plate, please watch over Abel. Bring him back safe to his family.'

She heard the back door open and close and grimaced. 'Dammit, Alex! Can't ya give me just a couple of minutes to myself?'

"Mind a little company?" Happy's granite voice inquired.

'Actually, I do, but that's not the polite answer.' Cat shifted a little in the lawn chair. "Cop a squat, unless y'all prefer standin'."

Happy could tell she was faking her casual welcoming attitude. He advanced slowly, as if moving towards a wounded wildcat. He carried his beer and had an unlit cigarette in his mouth. "OK if I smoke?" he asked.

"Rather y'all do out here than inside," she replied offhandedly, reaching into her shirt pocket for a cigarillo. "Think I'll join ya."

Happy eased himself into the adjoining lawn chair, placed his beer on the table, and took out his lighter. "I didn't know you smoked!"

"I don't," she admitted with a wry grin. "The only time I smoke is when I'm stressed."

"And tonight's been pretty stressful," Happy ignited the lighter and held it out to her, allowing her to light up first, then lit his cigarette.

"Just a tad."

They smoked in silence for a while, then Happy took a pull from his beer before speaking. "Tig mentioned that your father's survived prostrate cancer. D'ya mind if I ask a personal question on that?"

Cat turned so that she could look at him with her only good eye. "Nah, go ahead. No guarantee I'll answer, though."

He grinned at her. "Fair enough. How do you handle bein' scared that he'll eventually die?"

Cat remained quiet for a long time, so long that Happy wondered if he'd upset her.

"You don't handle it," she replied softly. "You don't even accept it. You just learn to live with it because you love the person and want what's best for them in the long run."

Her voice was so soft that Happy had to lean forward to hear her clearly.

"If the ailing person has a good attitude, it tends to give ya a little strength to bear it with them. Sometimes." She inhaled on the cigarillo and let the smoke out through her nose. "I take it you have a family member who happens to have cancer?"

Happy nodded. "My mom. It's advanced."

Cat winced. "I'm sorry to hear that. May I ask if she's gettin' treatment?"

"Hospice and meds, but there's not much hope of remission."

Cat could hear the overwhelming sadness in Happy's voice. "What's your Mom's attitude?"

"Resigned. She's just waitin' it out. Says she's had a good life."

She remained silent a few moments. The pain in Happy's voice told her more about his mom's prognosis and his feelings about it than any words he could speak.

"My Dad's amazin'. He never once bitched an' moaned about havin' cancer. He sought treatment, and believed in the doctors. The last oncologist said that he'll die eventually, but it won't be from the cancer. He even believed that when he was so weak earlier this year."

She blew another cloud of smoke out in front of her. "But Tig already shared that with y'all, didn't he?"

"A little. He said it was somethin' you'd be better at describing," Happy acknowledged.

"Figured that's what brought this up as a topic of conversation. It sounds like your Mom is in the same mental place; she's aware that she's succumbin', and she's facin' it with dignity. The hard part is findin' one's own acceptance with the situation. Some days I have a _lot_ of difficulty with it."

"And you've been dealing with it for two decades?"

"Yeah. I try to follow Daddy's lead, but it's damn difficult." She blew a cloud of smoke over her head, watching it drift away on the slight breeze. "I wish I had answers, Happy. I don't. It's a daily thing. Only thing I can say is if ya ever need someone to talk to, I've got a good set of ears. No _Kum Ba Ya _circle jerk action, either."

"I'd appreciate that, but I get the feelin' I make ya nervous."

She grinned a little in response. "Well, you can be very intense at times. That's kinda intimidating."

Happy's eyebrows raised in surprise. "You? Intimidated? I didn't think it was possible!"

Cat smiled wryly. "Don't tell anyone. I got a rep to protect."

"Your secret's safe with me, Cat," Happy assured her, taking a long pull from his beer. "You don't seem intimidated now. You're sittin' here with me, in the dark."

"Tig's in earshot," she reminded him.

"True, but you didn't get up and run back inside to him when I came out here," he countered.

"For one, it hurts to run. It might've been a fast limp," she grinned. "Besides, you supported me today about havin' this shindig, even though you don't know dick about me except as a friend of the club and Tig's old lady. That told _me _a lot, brother."

They remained in a companionable silence while they finished their smokes. Happy knew she was still a little skittish, but that would mend itself in time. "I may take ya up on your offer sometime in the future, Cat. It hurts that all I can do is make her comfortable."

"Sometimes that and giving that person your love is all you _can_ do, Happy."

Happy snubbed out his cigarette and stood up. "I'll let ya sit alone for awhile, Cat. Thanks for listenin'."

"Anytime." She turned her face back up to the stars, listening as Happy walked to the back door and closed it behind him. 'Nice guy, but I'll bet he wouldn't want that to get out. He's got a rep to protect, too.'

Tig looked up, an inquiring expression on his face as Happy entered through the back door, his intense glare sending Ebony running for cover under the kitchen table. 'Shit! Guess I'm not top cat around here tonight!'

Happy gave him a thumbs up and settled back at the table with the other men.

Cat's cell phone went off, Gerard Butler's voice crooning '_Point of No Return_'. The caller ID revealed the call originated from Channel 2.

She considered letting the call go to voice mail, then relented when she saw that no one was watching her. "Cat Marshall here."

"James Windover, Ms. Marshall."

"Got no comment for y'all."

Windover grinned at her terse comment. "Not looking for one. Calling you with information. The Amber Alert on Abel Teller has been canceled. I thought you'd want to know and tell the club before they heard it elsewhere."

Hope flared in her heart at the news. "When will Abel be brought home?" she asked excitedly.

There was silence on the other end of the line. "You mean no one's contacted Jax Teller to make arrangements to return his child?"

Windover's question chilled her to the bone. "No," she replied. "The club's been together all evenin', holding a wake for Kip." She didn't mention they were at her house and didn't see any reason to share that information.

"Ms. Marshall, I'll level with you. There's only one reason I know of for an Amber Alert to be canceled. Let me make some calls and get back to you. Maybe you'd best hold off on telling the club until I call back."

"I'll be waitin'," she promised, lighting another cigarillo. 'I've got a bad feelin' about this,' she inhaled and then exhaled the strawberry flavored tobacco, fighting to keep herself calm. She couldn't suppress the feeling of dread that crawled inside her heart.

Alex had gotten up for another beer and glanced out the back door windows to check on her. He noticed the cellphone pressed to her ear. 'Too late for Blaine to be callin', unless there's an emergency of some kind. Maybe I should go check on her."

He started to the door, then stopped when she put the phone in her shirt pocket and leaned her head back. 'Guess everything's OK. She'd not be so relaxed if it wasn't.'

Cat was staring into the stars overhead, hoping and praying for good news. Her phone crooned again, making her heart jump. "Cat Marshall."

"The cancellation was ordered by the Feds," Windover announced without preamble. "I confirmed it with a friend of mine at CHP. He couldn't give me a reason for the cancellation, but he did say the child is still missing."

Cat's mind and heart were in turmoil. She knew who was behind the cancellation and why it was done just as sure as she had a cast on her arm. The hand holding the cell to her ear shook and she was unable to speak.

"Ms. Marshall? Are you still there?"

"Y – yeah," she replied weakly. "I appreciate the info. Are all y'all gonna air it?"

"Just during the late newscast unless I learn anything otherwise between now and then. The story is going to emphasize that the whereabouts of the child remain unknown, despite the Amber Alert being canceled."

"Thanks," it seemed little gratitude for the newsman's efforts, but it was all she could offer him at the moment.

"You're welcome, Ms. Marshall." Windover paused a moment then asked, "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah," her voice still sounded shaky to her, but her response must have convinced the reporter, as he thanked her and ended the call.

Cat leaned her head over the back of the chair, gazing balefully up at the night sky. Her mind swirled in chaos with the news, alternating with visions of what she feared would happen when she told Clay and the rest of the club.

'Stahl did this out of spite! This is gonna kill Clay and Jax. It's my fault, and they're all gonna hate me!'

Her guilt and despair made it easy to forget the words she'd spoken to Tara earlier that evening. The more rational part of her mind insisted that neither Clay nor Jax – and especially not Alex – would hold her accountable for Stahl's behavior. She was too emotionally and physically drained to believe her own words.

She inhaled again on the cigarillo, trying to find comfort in the fragrant smoke. She couldn't find it in there, nor in her faith.

"If this is Your idea of an answer to my prayer, Big Guy, somebody in your answering service got their wires crossed!" she growled at the Heavens.

Except for twinkling in the velvet darkness, the stars gave no response to her growl. 'I can't keep this from them, it'll be worse if they find out I knew and didn't share it with 'em. Least I can do is man up and face the consequences.'

She took a deep, cleansing breath to gather her courage. Once she felt strong enough, Cat stood up and walked into the back door, skillfully slipping past Ebony's attempt to escape and leaning against the door frame, appreciating it's strong support.

Cat's expression alerted Alex to trouble. 'I gotta bad feelin' about this!' He started to get up to go to her, but her minute gesture stopped him.

"Everybody, I need your attention a second," she called out over the drone of voices.

All eyes turned to her. Cat met their expectant faces without flinching. "I just received a phone call from the reporter that covered the rally. He said the Amber Alert was canceled on order of the Feds. Abel's still missin'. I'm sorry y'all. I'm sure Stahl did it out of retaliation for sendin' her packin' earlier."

They were shocked by the news. Clay slammed his hand on the table, rattling dishes and bottles and making Cat wince. 'He's pissed. I knew it!' She wanted to cower under the table.

"That fucking bitch! She's using the kid to draw Gemma out!" He stood up and began pacing in frustration. "Any contact we have with Gemma, we say nothing about Abel's disappearance!"

Murmurs of agreement met his edict. Cat fought tears of helplessness. 'Seems like now's a good time to escape!' She wearily slipped through the room, unshed tears clouding her vision and making it difficult for her to see where she was going.

Alex leapt from his chair at Cat's announcement. 'Shit! I _knew _I should've checked on her about that call! She feels guilty and it's not her fault!' He moved in front of her and she bounced off his chest, nearly falling to the floor. His strong arms caught her and held her close to him.

"It's not your fault, baby," he crooned, feeling her body trembling in fear and fatigue. "She's a'right, guys," he added loudly, noticing their concern for her. "This night's tired her out. Bringin' us this latest news didn't help." His fierce gaze challenged them to disagree with him.

He led her back to the recliner, sat down, and drew her onto his lap. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling the scent of freshly burnt strawberries. 'She was smokin' again. Either talkin' to Happy or learnin' this news made her nervous. Guess she's OK with talkin' to Happy. I'd be hearin' about it by now if she weren't.' He stroked her cheek with his thumb, drying the tears that trickled out of her eyes.

"Baby, keep that up and I'll have to change the bandage over your eye," he admonished, hoping she'd get righteously pissed at him and quit crying over something that wasn't her fault. "You heard Clay, Stahl did it to draw Gemma out of hiding! It has nothin' to do with you sendin' her away!"

She nestled against him shoulder with a tired sigh. "You're probably right. That woman gives cops a bad name. Makes me wanna punch her right in the crotch!"

He laughed at her observation. "It's called a cooterpunch, baby. I doubt it'd make any difference with her. and I'm not willin' to risk ya spendin' time in jail to find out!"

"Speakin' of risks, next time ya send someone outside to talk to me, gimme a hint so I don't have a heart attack!" She whispered in his ear before nipping his earlobe, taking comfort in his protective presence.

"Just wait until I get you alone, woman!" He nuzzled her neck, moving her shirt collar aside so he could get better access. '_If _I ever get you alone!'

Sometime after midnight, Clay helped his step – son stumble to Tara's Olds. "I'll bring him back for his bike in the morning, Cat," Tara assured her after giving her instructions on caring for Chuckie's burns. "If you need anything, call my cell."

Clay and Tig stood on the front porch, smoking and watching Tara drove away with the inebriated Jax.

"She gonna need help gettin' him into the house?"

"I'll send one of the charters over to help her," Clay replied. "I'm going back to the clubhouse; get the families and remaining charters prepared to return to their homes. With Zobelle gone and Weston dead, there's no reason for us to stay on lock down."

"Want my help?" Tig asked. "Cat will be okay on her own for a bit." His bald – faced lie sounded weak to him.

"Nah. Stay here. I can handle this," Clay assured him. "You'll have to leave her in a couple of days to keep Gemma from the Feds. You two deserve some time together. That havin' your back thing works both ways."

"Appreciate that, Clay," Tig shook his friend's hand, nearly jumping out of his skin when Cat reached past him to shake hands with Clay. 'Shit! She sure can move quiet when she wants to! I hope she didn't hear that bit about me goin' to protect Gemma!'

Cat had avoided direct contact with Clay after making her announcement out of fear he would blame her for the Alert being canceled. Her good manners won out over her fear and she had ventured outside to say goodnight. "Be safe goin' back to the clubhouse, Clay. Rest well."

Clay gave her a quick hug, being careful of her injuries. He sensed her fear and tried to reassure her. "Don't worry, Cat. I'm not mad at you. You and Tig enjoy the rest of your evening. I told him not to come in until late tomorrow."

"Thanks, Clay. I appreciate the support. Ride safe."

"I will, darlin'. Don't let this lot get too rowdy," he replied.

"They won't, Clay. They're fine."

It was well into the wee small hours of the morning when Alex decided he'd waited long enough for some private time with her. He held her next to him as he stood up from the recliner, then picked her up and cradled her against his shoulder.

"Keep the noise out here to a dull roar, since you assholes seem intent on staying. Cat's exhausted and needs her rest," he growled.

Sly grins of amusement greeted his comment. "Sure, right!" Bobby Elvis snickered, a wicked gleam in his eye. "And Kellogg's doesn't make cornflakes!"

"Be nice, lads!" Cat murmured warningly, but good naturedly. "Don't forget what I told Agent Stahl about bein' able to swing the baseball bat one handed!"

More good natured hoots and catcalls issued from the men, despite Tig's menacing glare. Good nights and assorted other good wishes and thanks were called out to her.

Piney ambled up, his paw resting gently on Cat's cheek for a moment. "Don't worry about them. Most of 'em quit drinkin' a coupla hours ago so they can ride. They'll be leavin' shortly. Mary, Chuckie, and I will clean up." He glanced at Chibs. "Looks like Chibs is the only one who's gonna be spending the night."

Cat glanced over at her friend. He'd eaten some of the chili, but had gotten almost as drunk as Jax. Misty was curled up on his chest, one paw draped over his shoulder. Chibs had one hand resting along her furry side.

"I think Chibs is purrfectly situated for the night," she observed softly. Of all the SAMCRO men, Chibs had taken Half – Sack's murder the hardest. "I'm glad he's somewhere safe." She smiled up at the founding member. "Thanks for all your help today, Piney."

"Yer welcome, honey. Don't be so nervous around Happy, OK? He's one of us good guys."

"I've noticed that," she grinned. "Is Lyla gonna be OK?"

"Lyla's feelings aren't somethin' for you to worry about, honey. Lyla will just have to get over it," he replied dismissively, giving her a kiss on the cheek before turning back to the men. "OK, boys, time to think about wrappin' it up and lettin' Cat and Tig get their rest."

"Rest my ass!" Bobby hooted. "More like Tig's gonna get a piece!"

"None of your business if he does!" Piney retorted. "That's Lady Cat you're talkin' about, and she's worth more than any piece of ass!"

"Bobby didn't mean any harm!" Juice replied. "He was just kiddin' around!"

"You boys keep a civil tongue in your head when it comes to Cat. She's one decent lady, deserves to be treated that way, like ya'd treat Gemma. You don't behave civil, I'll drum some respect for her into ya! Now start cleanin' this joint up!"

The SAMCRO men grumbled as they picked up after themselves. The muted sound of rock and roll music drifted from the direction of the master bedroom and they exchanged knowing grins.

Bobby waggled his eyebrows suggestively, but they kept their ribald comments to themselves under Piney's baleful glare.

Alex carried her down the hall to their bedroom, set her on the bed, then closed the door and locked it. "The cats can stay outside tonight," he growled, drawing his shirt over his head and tossing it in the general direction of the dirty clothes hamper.

Cat scooted to her side of the bed and slipped a tape into the cassette player. A Mellencamp tune issued from the speakers. "Are you lockin' me in, or the rest of the world out?" she asked with a sly grin. She felt a thrill run up her spine at the sight of his half – naked body. 'Damn! That chest of his never ceases to turn me on!'

Alex's unmarked body reminded her that she had a new set of bruises that he'd made when he gripped her arms earlier that evening. He'd been angry and upset to find her in their backyard instead of the hospital where he felt she belonged. 'Maybe I can pass them off from the wreck. _Please _don't pay attention to 'em, love!'

Alex crawled onto the bed next to her, gathering her in his arms. "Maybe a little of both," he admitted. "I've waited all night for this, don't want _anyone –_ four footed or two footed - interruptin' us. Good call turnin' the tape player on."

"And just _what_ do you think they might possibly interrupt?" she inquired.

"Woman, if you hafta ask!" Alex growled, sliding his hands up inside her shirt and around the front to knead her breasts in his hands.

His touch sent tingles all over while her nipples hardened under his questing fingers. Feeling her body without worrying about a nurse walking in made him harder than a rock, but he didn't want to rush things. 'Far as I'm concerned, we've got all night.'

"I don't hafta ask, and neither do you, love. The doctor said we could indulge any time you felt like it," she assured him, drawing the note Dr. Gallagher had written from her shirt pocket.

He took the note from her, read it over, then slipped in his back pocket. His hungry growl was all the answer she needed as his hands slid out from under her shirt to draw it up and over her head. He wadded it up and threw it in the same direction he'd tossed his shirt.

Alex looked over her, taking stock of the cuts, bruises, and bandages on her face, and the large, slanted bruise the hated seat belt had left on her chest. "You're welcome for bein' strapped into that safety harness. Aren't you glad I insisted?"

"Yes, love," she laughed lightly. "Thank you for bein' a domineering male chauvinist that night."

"You're gonna pay for that comment, woman!" he growled, using the finger of one hand to lightly trace the bruise. He grinned to feel her tremble from something besides pain and tiredness.

"I certainly hope so!"

His gaze fell on two hand print shaped bruises on both of her upper arms. "Shit! _I _put those there!" He closed his eyes in momentary pain. 'Why the fuck do I put bruises on her when she does somethin' to upset me?'

"You didn't do it deliberately, Alex. You were upset when you grabbed hold of me earlier. You thought I did somethin' dangerous and thoughtless," she hastened to assure him.

"You suddenly become a mind reader?" He snarled, anger at himself making his voice harsh.

"No, and I'm not gonna make a wisecrack about your mind, love." She grinned wickedly and added, "Though you certainly left the door wide open to a whole slew of jokes!"

He glared at her. "Excuse me if I don't express gratitude for that! It's not somethin' to joke about!"

"You're right. It's not." She rested her uninjured hand against the bruised side of his face. The cuts Opie had inflicted when Alex had confessed to killing Donna were nearly healed. "I read your expression, love. Your eyes told me how much it hurt to see bruises that you knew you had inflicted."

Alex sighed, the anger replaced by a deep feeling of remorse and shame. "Baby, I had no right! I should've controlled my temper."

"Coulda/woulda/shoulda!" She scoffed. "There's a big difference between deliberately beatin' the tar outta a body and reactin' to somethin' upsettin'. You may be a lot of dangerous things, but a wife beater ain't one of 'em!"

She frowned furiously at him as she added, "If I thought for _one_ second that you intended to cause these," she indicated the bruises that perfectly matched his fingers, "I wouldn't be with you - now or ever."

Alex looked down into her bruised face, desire plainly visible in his eyes. "If you don't get those jeans off, I'll cut the fuckin' things off!" He growled huskily.

"Don't need any more of my britches cut up!" She slid off the bed and unzipped her jeans, allowing them to fall to the floor. She slowly removed her underpants, smiling as he watched them travel from her waist. Her boots and sox joined the puddle of fabric. She stepped out of the clothes and lay back down on the bed, staring up at him.

"So what are you waitin' for, love? Or do I need to borrow your knife?" her voice was a low, throaty purr that drove him wild.

Alex stood up long enough to unzip his jeans and step out of them, kicking off his boots before returning to the bed and pulling her against him. The feel of their skin touching, the thought of her warm and inviting body waiting for him nearly sent him over the edge.

He took her face in his hands, gently laying his forehead against hers. "Are you sure, baby? I don't wanna do anything that's gonna hurt ya, but I definitely wanna do some really bad things to you!" He felt like a bastard, wanting her so badly when he looked at all her injuries.

"I'm real sure," she murmured, her good hand caressing his chest and stomach. Her hand traced a warm line along his thigh before closing around his thick erection. Her fingers moved over him, a feathery caress from his balls to the tip of his moist dick and back down again.

His eyes closed with pleasure at her touch. His hands moved over her, reacquainting himself with the curves and contours. His hand brushed against the stitches in her side, which were still tender and caused her to hiss slightly.

"Shit! I'm sorry, baby. Maybe this isn't such a good idea. You've got all kinds of shit that could get irritated."

"I'll get one hell of a lot _more_ irritated if you don't finish what y'all started," she warned him, her good eye gleaming in desire and love. "So I'm a little tender here and there, just means we get a little inventive."

"You ain't gonna whack me upside the head with that cast of yours, are ya?" He asked teasingly.

"I'm not into that shit, you should know that by now," she growled, nuzzling his neck just under the chin. She nipped his throat, making him shiver.

"Tryin' to slake your anemia on me, little vampire?" He growled, his eyes closed in pleasure.

"Just takin' a tiny taste, love," her tongue licked where she'd bit before sliding along his neck to his chest.

"I bite back," he whispered, nuzzling her neck and nipping right where she was most ticklish.

His move made her jump and her teeth grazed his nipple while her hand tweaked the other nipple. Her cast felt rough and heavy against his chest, a direct contrast to the feathery light touch of her mouth and tongue and other hand.

He rolled over onto his back, drawing her on top of him. "Will this work a'right?"

A Journey song blared from the tape player, making Cat smile wickedly. "As the song says, love, 'anyway ya want it'."

He placed his hands on her upper arms above the bruises he'd inflicted, lifting her above him. She straddled him and slowly lowered herself onto his throbbing, stiff erection. He sighed as he felt the hot wetness of her engulf him and her muscles squeeze tightly in welcome.

Lyla stormed into Opie's house and flung herself onto the sofa, watching as Piper and the Winston kids walked to their bedrooms to prepare for bed.

'She's still upset about getting shunned by the guys,' Opie mused. 'She's got a lot to learn and I don't know how to begin to teach her. With Gemma on the lam, I don't who can.'

The kids changed into their night clothes and walked into the living room for reassuring good night hugs and kisses. The kids had been safe and sound at the clubhouse while he and Lyla were away.

To Opie's relief, the youngest children at the clubhouse, including Kenny, Ellie, and Piper, had been been kept entertained with cartoon and family oriented DVDs. They knew nothing about the highway shoot or nor of Abel's kidnapping and Sack's murder.

The DVDs had been provided by Cat. She had called her employees and asked them to gather the movies from her own library and deliver them to the clubhouse. She'd called Pete and Adrian with the idea when she first saw the news coverage of the Main Street standoff.

"I don't want the kids, especially the younger ones, seeing this on the local news. Gemma and Tara are there. I'll call them and have them clear y'all. They'll know what to do with the DVDs."

Adrian and Pete packed up all the family - oriented DVDs they felt the kids would like. "I guess any of these that are in the 'family' section will do," Pete mused, as he and Adrian packed the DVDs in a box.

"There's certainly a vast selection here," Adrian observed. "Should keep the kids interested. Just hope the guys at the clubhouse don't shoot first and ask 'who's there' later!"

Opie couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Pete's Honda pull up to the gate. "Tig! A couple of Cat's employees are out front!" he called out from the monitors where he was taking a turn on watch.

"What the Hell are they doin' here? Deliverin' coffee?" Tig scowled in consternation.

"No, honey," Gemma replied from across the room, watching Tara clean and dress Chuckie's burned hands. "Cat called awhile ago. Said she was sendin' 'em over with DVDs for the kids. She thought the movies would be better for 'em than watching' shit about the club on the news."

Tig's eyes had nearly bulged from their sockets at the news. 'I don't believe it! In her condition, and she's still lookin' out for us!' His heart swelled with pride as he strode to the gate, fighting back that familiar ache in his throat at her consideration for him and the club.

"Thanks, guys," he stated gruffly as he took the box from the men. "I'd invite ya in - "

"It's OK, Mr. Tig," Adrian replied. "We understand."

"Yeah, we've got to get back to the coffeehouse, keep things shipshape there for our bosses," Pete added with a wry grin.

Opie's children, Piper, and the other kids were kept entertained throughout the afternoon and evening. They had no idea that Sack was dead and Abel missing. Opie felt more determined than ever to protect his family.

"We'll have to tell them about Sack and Abel sometime, Ope," Lyla remarked harshly while the kids were in their rooms.

"I know, baby. Telling them now would just give them nightmares. We'll tell them in the morning, OK?"

Lyla snorted and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring balefully at Opie. Her cloudy expression didn't brighten until the kids came trooping back into the living room to spend some time with their respective parents.

Lyla smiled sincerely at the kids, watching as they gave Opie a hug and kiss goodnight. Then she took them to their rooms and tucked them into bed, giving them each a warm hug and good night kiss.

Opie stood in the hallway between the kids' bedrooms, watching Lyla interact with them. 'My kids seem to be OK with Lyla. For awhile I wondered if they'd accept her at all. They need a mother figure in their lives. Not sure a porn princess is the best mother figure, but Lyla's all I can offer them right now.'

Once the children's' bedroom doors were closed, Opie sighed tiredly. "We need to talk," he said softly after they'd returned to the living room.

"What about?"

"Your behavior at Tig and Cat's house."

Lyla glared at him. "_My _behavior? What about the guys? They acted like I didn't exist!"

"You came on too strong, acting like you were the hostess. It made the guys uncomfortable with you."

"No shit!" Lyla pouted. "They certainly made that plain!"

"They knew if they said or did anything about it, I'd be all over them like white on rice!" Opie retorted. "They left it up to me to handle this, and I chose to do so in private. Some of 'em wouldn't have waited that long. I'd like to think I'm a little classier than that."

They stared across the expanse of sofa at each other. Opie wanted nothing more than to embrace Lyla, to reassure himself that his home and family were still stable anchors. He also needed to set Lyla on the proper path if their relationship was going to continue.

Lyla's eyes softened. "You _are_, Opie. I know you can be as mean as the rest of 'em, but you're gentle, too. I think that's what drew me to you in the first place." She stood up and moved across the living room to cuddle with him. "I don't understand the club sometimes, though."

"You don't need to. What you need to understand is that the women in the club - wives, old ladies, and croweaters - have a hierarchy of their own. Gemma's the undisputed matriarch. Has been for years. Cat and Tara are 'old ladies' because they've been recognized as that by their men."

"Aren't I your 'old lady'?" Lyla held her breath as she waited for the answer.

"Not officially. I haven't declared you that way yet. The guys know you're my woman, so they don't hit on you like they would a croweater or a porn girl like Ima."

"Why haven't you made us official?" She was thrilled that Opie claimed her, but not that she didn't have an official standing where the club was concerned.

"A couple of reasons. I haven't figured things between us completely out yet. The other thing is that you haven't proved your loyalty to the club."

"What do you mean, I haven't proved my loyalty? I allowed you to put me and Piper on lock down, for God's sake!"

Opie sighed in resignation. "Only after I begged you. You made it clear you weren't happy about it. The croweaters talk and there was some unkind words things said about your attitude. You and Tara have openly disagreed. After this shit tonight - " Opie spread his hands apart.

"Do you want to call us quits?" Lyla asked quietly.

"No!" he replied quickly, nearly shouting the denial. "But there's gotta be some changes. You've gotta drop the attitude with Tara, and vice versa."

Lyla opened her mouth to protest, he lifted a hand to stifle it before she got a good start.

"I know, Tara's attitude towards you hasn't been very nice, either. I need you to be the 'bigger woman'. You also need to make tonight right with Cat. For now, she's our matriarch. Gemma chose her."

"In _her _condition?" Lyla asked incredulously. "You saw how physically weak she is! She collapsed when she gave us the news about the Amber Alert!"

"She was upset and felt responsible," Opie explained. "Despite the physical weakness, Gemma knew Cat would find a way to help us while she's on the lam. Cat knew who to ask for help. That's the kind of thing that comes from experience; you and Tara lack that."

"Are you saying I'm never going to be your 'old lady'? That I'm nothing to you but a good lay and just a little better than a croweater?"

"No, That's not what I'm saying! Becoming an old lady doesn't happen overnight, baby. If you're willing to take the time, I'll do what I can to help you. You don't have to start a sewing circle with the other women, but we can't and won't tolerate you women being at odds with each other."

"If I 'make nice', will you give me less grief about my line of work?" Lyla relaxed and snuggled against him.

"It's difficult for me, baby. I don't like knowing other men watch you having sex."

"But that's _all_ they get to do Opie. You get to be with me all you want." Lyla assured him, her hand crawling up under his shirt.

"I know. But that doesn't make it any easier to accept."

"I'll try to make things right with Tara and Cat," Lyla purred, sitting up and kneeling in front of him on the couch, rubbing her body against him as she kissed him thoroughly. Opie moaned and picked her up, carrying her into the bedroom.

Cat slid out from under Alex's embrace and drifted into the bathroom. She was still worked up and knew she'd fight the bed, so she put on a robe and slipped quietly out into the hall.

The house was dark, save for the night light in the guest bathroom. The door to the library was closed. She stood at the door and listened a moment, to be rewarded with the sound of Chuckie's snores.

She walked out into the living room, allowing her eye to adjust to the dim light from the street light shining through the drawn drapes. Chibs was stretched out on the couch with Misty curled up on his chest. Ming, the Siamese, dozed on the back of the sofa. Ebony was curled up in one of the recliners, a puddle of inky fur against the dark fabric.

She reached into the end table drawer closest to the hall and withdrew a light quilt. It had been made by her maternal grandmother and great – grandmother decades earlier when she started college. She shook it out and covered Chibs legs and lower body with it.

Misty stirred and she murmured comforting words to the feline, petting her and scratching her under the chin. The cat licked her hand and closed her eyes, resting her head on her paws.

Cat ventured on into the kitchen. 'They did a good job cleanin' up. No one would know there'd been a large gatherin' here tonight."

The dining room table had been cleared off and all the leftovers put away in the refrigerator.

The empty beer and liquor bottles had been taken out, presumably to the trash, while the dishes had been loaded in the dishwasher. The coffeepot was washed and prepared for the next day.

She checked the back door to find it was securely locked, as was the front door. Satisfied that her world was safe, Cat checked on Chibs again before padding back to the bedroom.

She stood in front of the closed door, her back against its' solid support, gazing at her sleeping man. Alex had turned onto his back, one arm covering his eyes. A slight snore issued from his partly open mouth.

'I'm glad Clay gave him the mornin' off. He needs the rest more than I do. The last few days haven't been easy for him; haven't been easy for any of us. The next few days aren't gonna be easy, either. Damn Stahl!'

She padded to his side of the bed, bent over, and straightened the bedclothes that had tangled around his legs and body. She smiled at the sight of him. He stirred and stretched, then startled her by reaching out and grabbing her by her good hand.

"I thought you were asleep!" she whispered.

"I was, until you were standin' over me," he replied. "Everythin' a'right out there?" He drew her down on the bed next to him, scooting over so that she had room and he was lying on her side of the bed.

"Yeah. Everythin's cleaned up; coffee's set up for later; Chuckie and Chibs are asleep. Misty's keeping watch over our boy."

"He's takin' Sack's death kinda hard. Guess I can't blame the guy; he sponsored the kid. We were gonna patch him in next month."

She gasped softly. "Should y'all be tellin' me that, love?"

"No reason not to, baby," he cradled her next to him, grimacing at the feel of the robe's fabric under his hands. "Do you hafta wear that thing?" he complained.

"Thought it might be a good idea in case Chibs or Chuckie were still awake." She shrugged out of the robe and climbed back into bed with him.

"Good thinkin', baby, though you shouldn't have ventured outta the room. I missed ya." He snuggled up to her, wrapping one leg over hers.

"How could you miss me when you were snorin' like a cement mixer?"

"I was playin' possum," he replied.

"Yeah, right. And bears don't shit in the woods."

"Polar bears don't," he growled, nuzzling her neck and shoulder. "You feelin' a'right?"

"Just tired, love," she murmured, ignoring the niggling guilt over the Amber Alert. "When do ya hafta leave to take care of Gemma?"

'Shit!' Alex stiffened next to her, his hands stopped idly wandering her body.

"Was kinda hard not hear all y'all talkin' about it, love," she assured him. "Besides, you're Clay's best friend and his bodyguard. He trusts you with the things he holds most precious."

"Don't you think you matter to me as much as Gemma matters to Clay? Aren't you gonna tell me it's my job to stay with ya?" he growled.

Cat smiled and laid her good hand against his bruised cheek, her fingers ran lightly over his mustache, then his lips. "No, Alex love. It's your job to go where y'all gotta go, do what ya gotta do. Clay wouldn't send y'all to protect Gemma if I were in bad shape."

Alex felt his heart race with pride. "I could ask Clay to send Bobby or Juice," he replied softly.

"You could, but you won't," she replied equally as softly. "You're gonna pack your duffel, we'll get some stuff for ya to take to Gemma, and you'll go. Plain and simple."

Alex moved closer to her, fitting his body to hers in an attempt to convey his gratitude. "It's not as simple as it sounds, leavin' you on your own like this."

She shrugged. "But I _won't_ be on my own, love. Chuckie's here. Besides, we'll be able to be in touch. Aren't you takin' the two – way?"

'I don't like the idea of another man stayin' here while I'm gone. Not gonna bring it up right now. She'll just argue.' He appreciated her support, yet his instincts continued to fight with each other. "I don't go anywhere without it. But it's not fair to you, baby! You just got outta the hospital!"

"Remember what I said earlier about the needs of the many outweigh the needs of this one? I borrowed it from _Star Trek_ and the author Charles Dickens."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, the good of another one outweighs the needs of this one. Clay and Gemma need you more than I do. I accept that."

Alex relaxed against her. 'She's always puttin' me and the club first. Just once, I'd like to be able to put _her _first!'

As if she sensed his thoughts, Cat snuggled against him, laying her head on his chest. "When we started this thing, Alex, I knew the club would come first. It's as much a part of you as breathin'. Do y'all hear me complainin'?"

"No."

"And y'all won't. So quit worryin' about it. The sooner y'all get Gemma someplace safe, where the Feds can't get her, the sooner you can come home to me."

"I'll have to leave my ride in Charming, it's a little noticeable," he mused.

"The chrome skulls _are _a little attention getting'," she agreed. "The large 'SOA' letterin' on the tank might be good advertisin' for the club, but doesn't lend itself well to covert operations."

He lowered his mouth to one of her breasts, taking the nipple in his mouth and raking it with his teeth. "Smart ass!" He whispered around a mouthful of nipple, smiling in triumph at her gasp of pleasure.

"Just remember that for every action, there tends to be an equally opposite reaction!" Her growl was interrupted by a massive yawn.

"Got news for ya, baby," Alex grinned mischievously. "Threats work a helluva lot better without a yawn."

"I'll keep that in mind," she replied ruefully, fighting to keep her eye open.

Alex turned onto his back, using one arm to guide her head to rest on his chest, stroking her hair with one hand and holding her close with the other. "You need some rest, baby. I prolly wore ya out earlier," he murmured.

He anticipated with relish her tart rejoinder of 'Think so?' only to be met with silence. He looked down to find her eye was closed and her breathing deep and regular.

"Yeah, I _know _so," he whispered, dropping a kiss on her head. 'She seems OK about the Amber Alert bein' called off. 'Bout time,' he thought gratefully as he settled into sleep.

Chuckie was the first awake the next morning. After he dressed, he crept past the snoring Chibs to the kitchen to start the coffee. There were no sounds from the master bedroom. 'Cat and Tig must still be asleep.'

The felines rushed into the kitchen, looking expectantly at their bowls. Misty even left Chibs' in hopes of some food. Pete had opened a new can of cat food the night before, so Chuckie had no difficulty feeding the trio. They rubbed against his legs and made extravagant promises of affection in exchange for filled bowls.

"I'll bet you three will forget every one of your promises as soon as your stomachs are full!" Chuckie laughed softly, reaching out to stroke the Siamese. To his surprise and delight, Ebony butted his head against Chuckie's hand, demanding his share of attention.

While the coffee brewed, Chuckie warmed up some of the left over chili for his breakfast. 'Pete was right, deer meat's not bad at all.' He tried not to make too much noise, but Chibs stirred and sat up with a groan.

"Mornin'!" Chuckie called softly.

Chibs winced in pain. "Ach! Kin ye keep yer voice down? Me 'ead is poundin' like a drum!"

"I accept that!" Chuckie whispered with a grin. "This better?"

"Barely," Chibs moaned. He leaned over, holding his aching head in his hands. "Where the 'Ell am I?"

"Tig and Cat's. You spent the night on their sofa."

"Oh, yeah. Ye took me keys."

Chuckie nodded, swallowing a bite of his breakfast. "Want some tea or coffee?"

"Coffee smells gud. An aspirin chaser wuld be 'elpful."

Chuckie poured a cup of coffee and brought it to him, then disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a bottle of pain reliever. "You don't mind opening it yourself?"

"Think ah kin manage," Chibs replied, noting gratefully that the cap was not child proof. He shook out a couple of pills, popped them in his mouth and downed them with a slug of coffee without really tasting it.

"Do you remember much from last night?"

"Gemma's on the lam," Chibs replied wearily.

"Some lie of tha' Fed bitch caused all this latest shite, includin' Abel's kidnappin'."

Chuckie nodded. "That's the short version. You gonna be OK? I gotta go to the coffeehouse, start work there today."

Chibs waved him off, cradling the coffee cup in both hands. "Where's me keys?"

"Miss Cat will give them to you when she's sure you're OK to ride. You and Jax got pretty lit. Good reason for it."

Chibs nodded his head slightly, then wished he hadn't. The movement made the drums start up in his head.

Chuckie hovered at the back door a moment longer, wondering if he should leave Chibs alone.

"G'wan and git ta work!" Chibs stated. "I'm not gonna do sumthin' stoopid. Prolly jest stay put until me 'ead clears."

"I accept that," Chuckie replied and darted out the back yard, closing the door before Ebony could consider trying to escape. He crossed the back yard to the entrance to the coffeehouse to start his work day.

Chibs lay back down on the sofa, wishing he could find relief from his aching head. 'Mebbe I'll jest lay 'ere an' die!' He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

Cat woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and her man's light snores. She stretched, grimacing as her muscles protested. Beside her, Alex lay stretched out on his back.

'Clay said he didn't have to go in 'til late today, I'm just gonna let him sleep. Gotta get some things done.'

She decided to wear the same clothes from the night before and took a quick basin bath before dressing and slipping into the hallway.

The cup and bowl in the sink indicated that Chuckie was already up and about. 'Probably already puttin' in some time at the coffeehouse."

After pouring some coffee for herself and settling at the dining room table, she called her insurance company to arrange for a rental. The nearest agency the insurance worked with was in Oakland, and they didn't bring the rental to the customer, she'd have to get it.

'That's fine. I've got a way in," she sighed, writing down the reservation number and address for the rental agency. "I also need to make Alex Trager an authorized driver on the rental. He's my live - in boyfriend and covered on the same insurance policy."

"I'll add that to the rental request, Ms. Marshall. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, just let me know what the settlement will be on the PT."

"Do you have access to a fax?"

Cat smiled at that question. "Yes, darlin'. I own my own business."

"If you'll fax a copy of the title, showing that you don't have a lien holder, that will help."

Cat copied down the fax number, along with the claim handler's name and the claim number. "I'll do that in a few minutes. The PT's still at police impound. I'll leave the keys and title in the car for y'all."

"I'll get that information to the adjuster, Ms. Marshall. Take care of yourself, glad you're out of the hospital."

Cat hung up, gratified that there were still some customer service agents who could actually provide service instead of worrying about their numbers. 'I never told the rep about bein' injured, but she must've noticed it on the file. It's the small stuff like that people remember."

"I left tha keys wid tha rest o' yer stuff in a box in Tig's bay," Chibs murmured from the sofa.

"It – is – alive!" Cat retorted in a soft imitation of Dr. Frankenstein. She'd kept her voice down out of respect for the man's massive hangover. "And hung, I'll bet."

"Dunno. Evrathin' 'urts." Chibs moaned.

Alex sauntered into the room. He wore jeans and boots and his shirt was unbuttoned. "What's that bout askin' another man if he's hung?"

"Get yer mind out of the gutter, love! Hung also means hung over. Which Chibs appears to be!" she handed a fresh cup of coffee to him and poured a refill for Chibs.

"You're always saying a dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste, and I don't believe in wasting mine!" Alex grinned.

"You two wanna keep it down ta a whisper? I'm dyin' 'ere!" Chibs moaned.

Cat took pity on him. "Sit up and have some coffee. I just refilled your cup."

Chibs sat up, but he groaned and moaned so much about it that she seriously considered hiring the services of a drama critic. He took a sip from the cup and grimaced. "This isna the whiskey blend!"

"I'd think y'all had more than enough of that last night!" she retorted. "Plain, black coffee ain't gonna hurt y'all!"

"Good one!" Alex laughed, sipping his own coffee while looking in the bread box for a Snicker Bar Muffin. "Are we out?"

"Probably. I didn't think to ask Pete to bring any over," she replied. "Sorry, love."

The sound of the back door opening startled them. Alex moved protectively in front of her. They both sighed in relief to see Chuckie walk into the kitchen, holding a _Charming Pawse _pastry bag.

"I forgot about Chuckie havin' a key!" Cat exhaled. "Thought you were workin', darlin'."

"Just came over to deliver breakfast," Chuckie replied, dropping the bag on the table. "I didn't think you'd feel up to cooking for those two, nor should you have to! Pete told me these were your favorites."

"I brought a cup of tea for Mr. Chibs," Pete added, entering the kitchen with the large cup in his hand.

"Thank ye, Pete," Chibs moaned from the sofa. "Coffee's gud, but I needs me tay."

Pete took the cup over to Chibs and grinned to see Misty curled up next to him on the sofa. "She certainly likes you."

"She's my liddle sweet'eart," Chibs moaned again.

Pete laughed and walked away from the sofa. "We'd better get back, Chuckie."

"Thanks for thinkin' of us, fellas. I'll settle up later for the food, Pete."

"As always, Miss Cat. Glad you're back and better."

"She shouldn't have left the hospital," Alex growled, glaring over his coffee cup at her.

"Too bad, stud! I'm out and stayin' out!" Cat grinned over her own coffee cup.

"I'm gonna enjoy being around to you two!" Chuckie grinned. "Reminds me of my parents."

"Get outta here!" Alex roared. "Neither of us are _that_ old!"

Chuckie and Pete scampered out the back door, laughing as they hurried back to the coffeehouse.

"Kids. No respect," Alex grumbled, tearing into the bag for his breakfast. "Hey, Chibs! Want anything to eat?"

"Urp!" Chibs leapt to his feet and ran for the bathroom.

"I hope he made it, otherwise, he's cleanin' up his own mess!"

They heard retching noises from the bathroom, which assured her Chibs had made it there in time. The moans and other noises, followed by the toilet flushing and running water in the sink indicated Chibs had paid homage to the porcelain god Ralph.

"I don't think you have to worry about a mess, baby," Alex observed dryly. "So what's goin' on today?"

"I called for a rental car, hafta go to Oakland to get it."

'Shit! It _would_ have to be Oakland!' Alex thought, hiding his concern behind his coffee cup.

Cat could tell he wasn't pleased at the news. "I know, love. Not a great place for us at the moment. It can't be helped."

"Why can't you have somethin' local, for fuck's sake?" he growled.

"It's the insurance company's rules. I could go local if I pay out of pocket. There's no guarantee I'll get reimbursed when they go after the truck's insurance."

Alex sighed in resignation. "Not right for you to be out of pocket for this shit any more than you hafta be."

"I was hopin' y'all would see reason," she replied, gazing at him in appreciation. "I also need to make a trip to the garage to get my keys for the adjuster. Think I can bum a ride from you, love?"

He grinned wolfishly. "_You_ just want an excuse to straddle a bike!"

"I kin take 'er to impound ifn' ye hev other thin's to attend to," Chibs offered, walking back into the kitchen with his tea. He looked less pale than before his rapid retreat.

"Not in your condition," Alex growled. "You might be able to ride, but you're _not_ takin' her on your bike. If she's riding behind _anyone_, she's ridin' behind me!"

"Play nice, boys," Cat admonished them. "I appreciate the offer, Chibs. Tig's gonna be goin' off to keep Gemma safe pretty soon. If it's all the same to you, I'd like to spend as much time as possible with him."

Chibs nodded, not too surprised by her casual mention of the situation. "Might I hev my keys, Lady Cat? Since Tig's indicated 'e thinks I can ride, the sooner I hev my keys, the sooner I'm outta yer 'air."

She grinned and reached into the drawer where she'd asked Chuckie to put them. She lifted them out and handed them to him, leaving Jax's keys. "Just be sure to keep the shiny side up, darlin'."

"I plan ta," he replied, kissing her cheek. "Thanks fer everthin' ye did fer us last night."

"I'll walk out with ya, Chibs. Need a smoke." Alex picked up his coffee cup and followed his friend to the front porch.

"Whut's on yer mind, Tig?" Chibs squinted in the bright sunlight and hurriedly put his shades on. The two leaned against the porch railing and faced the street. Chibs took another swallow of his tea.

"In a minute. I need to check somethin'," Tig replied, running his hands over the top of the railing and then under it. He then checked the front door and windows.

"Enny bugs?" Chibs inquired, recalling Stahl's visit the night before.

"Nah. We can talk," Tig replied. "I'm concerned about Cat handling Sack's visitation. You're the only other one of the guys she trusts the most. She's gonna need someone to lean on."

"Aye," Chibs agreed. "Lady Cat treated the bhoy like 'e was 'er little bruther."

"She's tryin' to put up a brave front about it, but I know his death hurts her. I hate not bein' able to be here for her."

"You could ask one o' tha others ta go ta Gemma in yer place," Chibs replied.

Tig shook his head. "This is somethin' I gotta do, brother. Clay's countin' on me. Chuckie's not gonna be staying here while I'm gone, either. Wouldn't send the right message."

Chibs grinned. "Gud luck wi' tha'! Ye know she isna gonna feel tha same!"

"Tough shit! She'll have to accept it. I _do_ wear the pants 'round here!" Tig blew smoke through his nostrils.

"Ye may wear tha pants, bhoyo, but Cat doesnae kowtow ta enny mon! She might respect yer decision, but she won't agree wi' it!" Chibs grinned.

"She doesn't have to agree; it's happenin', whether she likes it or not!" Tig growled.

"A'right," Chibs replied with a knowing grin. "Ye dinna hafta cum out 'ere jest ta ask me aboot tha' visitayshun!" Chibs replied. "Whut's _really_ on yer mind?"

"I wanna make sure Cat's protected while I'm gone. The Mayans are gonna be wantin' revenge for the highway ambush and lookin' for ways to hurt us. Would you mind keepin' an eye on my girl while I'm away and make sure she stays outta trouble?"

Chibs nodded, placing a hand on Tig's shoulder. "Tha's a tall order, bruther. But ye dinna 'ave ta ask. Of course I'll keep 'er safe fer ye."

"Thanks, brother."

Chibs nodded and drained the last of his tea. He handed the empty cup to Tig and walked to his bike, carefully straddling it and backing it from the driveway before starting it. He winced at the roar of the engine, but waved cheerfully at Tig and rode slowly for the clubhouse.

A couple of hours after Chibs' left their house, Tig's Dyna rolled into the Teller – Morrow lot. Alex backed the Dyna in its' usual spot, then Cat dismounted and waited for him to shut down the engine.

"I still think it would've been better if I'd brought the van to the house, instead of ya ridin'!" He glared at her as he unbuckled the helmet and draped it on his mirror.

"Well, we're here now, so y'all might as well stop beatin' a dead horse, love! Did Chibs say where he stored my stuff from the PT?" she squinted at him, holding her hand over her eyes as if she was trying to see something far away. The bright sunlight made both eyes hurt.

"Yeah, under the workbench in my bay. C'mon, Lady Dracula, let's get you outta the sun!" Alex could see the sunlight was aggravating her light sensitivity. He grabbed her elbow and led her to the garage.

They paused in the entry to his bay, allowing her eye a chance to adjust. "Better?"

"Much, love," she sighed in relief.

"I dunno if you're going to be OK to drive, baby. Your light sensitivity is worse than before the wreck!"

She grinned at him. "That's the reason I wanna go through the box. Those dark wraparounds might be in there." She didn't mention she hoped her chain and ring would be found there as well.

'Please, God! Let it be here! I'd rather explain it to Chibs than have to explain to Alex that his ring is missin' and probably gone for good!'

"What if the suncheaters aren't in the box?"

She shrugged while pawing through the contents. "Then we'll go to impound and check through the car. If Chibs could handle goin' through it, so can I!"

Alex raised his eyes to the Heavens and stood across the box from her, watching her sort through it. She located the wraparounds, but continued pawing through the contents, frantically searching for the missing item she wanted more than the glasses.

'I saw her put the cheaters aside. What else could she be -?' Alex suddenly knew what she was searching for. 'Shit! In all the fuss and confusion last night, I forgot to tell her about the rings!'

He squatted across from her, taking her hands in his. "Baby, it's OK. You didn't lose it!"

"I must've, Alex! It's not here! It wasn't in the bag at the hospital, it's not in this box, and probably isn't in the car!" Her voice reflected her distress.

"You're right," he replied gently, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of her hands. Both of their hands were in the box so that anyone who happened to look their way would think he was helping her search for something.

"It's safe. It _was _in the bag, I gave it to Frosty, along with mine. He's havin' them both remade so we don't hafta take 'em off when we're away from home."

Cat relaxed with a deep exhale of relief. "Thank God! I was afraid - "

"Yeah. I could tell." Seeing how worked up she'd gotten over the thought of losing her wedding ring touched him. He felt that familiar lump rise in his throat but forced it back. His eyes sparkled at her as he muttered, "Sorry."

She smiled at him, both in relief and gratitude for his gesture. She grabbed her wraparounds and put them on over her regular eyeglasses, the clip – on sunglasses, and the bandage. "That's OK. Ready to go leave the keys with the car?"

"No. We'll go get the rental. _ I'll _take the keys to the car. I'd rather you not see it." He held his palm out, silently asking for her keyring.

"That bad?" she asked, digging the fob from her pocket and passing it to him without argument.

"It's a total loss, baby. You don't need to see it. Don't want ya havin' nightmares," he removed the key and handed the fob back to her. "I already talked to the adjuster. He won't be out 'til later today to appraise the car; got plenty of time to leave the key in it. You bring the title?"

She sighed resignedly, withdrew the title from her inner jacket pocket, and handed it to him.

Alex stuck the envelope in an inner pocket of his cut. "C'mon. We're takin' the van."

She nodded and held up one finger. Turning back to the box, she removed her gun and holster, shrugged out of her jacket, and slid her arms into the holster.

Alex held out the jacket for her to slide her arms through. "Welcome back, old friend. Felt funny without ya havin' my back," she murmured, patting the gun in place.

"Funny how you tend to miss it when it's not there," Alex acknowledged, shoving the box back under his workbench.

He looked around the busy garage as Cat walked to the van. 'I'd like to have one of the guys go with us, drive the van back so I can drive the rental. Doesn't look like that's gonna happen.'

"Don't even think it, buster!" Cat drawled, leaning against the locked passenger door of the van. "Since you're insistin' on takin' the van, my eyes will get plenty of rest. I can drive back just fine!"

Alex grimaced and unlocked the door for her from the driver's side. She climbed in and settled in the passenger's seat. Alex stared at her until she sighed in annoyance and latched the safety harness in place.

"Good girl! You're learnin'," he grinned approvingly.

"Under protest! I suppose you'd have latched it for me if I hadn't given in!"

"You'll never know now!" He grinned and started the van, ignoring her icy glare.

Alex picked up the conversation again once they passed the Charming town line. "Given any thought to what you're gonna get to replace the _MF6?_"

"Another PT. This is the last year they're bein' produced, which pisses me off. Everytime I find a model I like, Mopar phases it out!"

"There's a way to keep that from happenin'," Alex replied.

"And what would that be, oh wise one?"

"Don't let on ya like a model," he grinned, basking in her wry praise of his wisdom.

Cat glared at him, then turned away with a snort of disgust to look out the window.

"Don't pout, baby. It's not becomin'," he reached over to grab her knee.

Cat took his hand off her knee and placed it firmly on the steering wheel. "You _are _driving!"

"Gonna play _that _game?"

"_I'm_ not playin'. I'm disgusted with y'all right now!"

Alex grinned and watched the road for a few seconds, then stretched his arm non – nonchalantly behind her and laid his hand on the back of her neck. "C'mon, baby!" He stroked her neck, enjoying the tremors he felt under his fingers. "Tell me what you're lookin' for in a replacement PT! Beats listenin' to the radio."

"Maybe I'd rather listen to music, did ya ever think of that?" she growled.

He increased the pressure on the back of her neck to emphasize his point. "I thought you wanted to spend as much time with me as possible before I hafta leave. Listenin' to music isn't one of the things _I _wanna do!"

She wrinkled her nose. "If we do _that, _we'll never get the rental!"

"And you accuse me of havin' a one track mind!" he laughed.

"No, I accused you of havin' a_ dirty _mind. Not that there's much of a difference where you're concerned!" she retorted.

The bucket seats of the van didn't allow for the closeness the PT's cockpit had provided. She had to settle for rubbing her cheek against his arm instead of snuggling next to him.

'I _knew_ you wouldn't stay mad at me for long," he observed triumphantly. "Why aren't you interested in those 300M's or a Crossfire or Charger?" he added before she could utter a suitable, cutting retort.

"The 300M is okay, but it's a little too well liked by wanna – be gangster hoodlums for my taste," she replied.

Her words reminded him of the day he and Opie had fought off the One – Niners in the doll factory. Some of that gang had arrived in a tricked out 300M. 'Definitely not the kind of car I want her driving.'

"I really don't like any of 'em as well as the PT," she continued. "The Crossfire is too small for all its' sportiness. The new Charger isn't as good as the original, in my opinion. They don't carry cargo well, either. I need that for the coffeehouse."

"So you're settled on another PT, then," he observed.

"Definitely. I want the same stuff as I had on the _MF6 – _stereo, tinted windows, auto tranny, four doors."

"Convertible?"

"No. Didn't like the one we rented. I felt too claustrophobic whenever the top was up. Has less head room. I wouldn't mind one of the sporty GT's, though," She rubbed her cheek against his arm again and sighed.

"What I'd _really _like to get would be a 'plum crazy' colored Plymouth Satellite GT, kinda like what I had in college when I ran booze. That's just not gonna happen."

"Why's that, baby?"

"The Satellite was phased out decades ago, they're hard to find in good condition. Mopar didn't produce the Satellite in that particular color. The Barracuda and the Charger - the one that came out in the 60's - were the only Mopars made in that shade. I always wanted a 60's Challenger."

"Do you have any particular color in mind PT in mind?" He stored her wish in the back of his mind. 'Hmmm. A car like that could come in handy for a lot of things, 'specially if it has a false bottom. I'll keep an eye out. Maybe be lucky enough to rebuild one for you.'

"Dark blue, maybe. Or Black," she replied. She stared out the window with a dreamy expression on her face. "That's it. I could get a GT version in black and name it '_Black Beauty' _after the Green Hornet's ride."

"The one in the movie is an Imperial, and I know those haven't been made in decades," Alex pointed out, thinking of the recent trailer he'd caught of the upcoming _'Green Hornet'_ movie she'd expressed interest in seeing.

"True. That's like the one in the 1966 TV series. It had a hemi engine and the Imperial body. All ya gotta do is listen to the engine start up to know it's a Mopar."

Alex grinned and shook his head. "I won't argue the point with you, baby. You know the older Mopar's better than I do."

"I cut my teeth on Mopar, love. That's the only reason," she assured him.

Before they reached the Oakland city limits, Alex stopped the van long enough to shrug out of his cut and place it behind the driver's seat.

Cat didn't say anything about it. 'Considerin' the highway ambush, it's good that he's bein' cautious.'

They drove to the rental agency without incident and walked into the office. Cat identified herself to the agent on duty and provided the claim number. "I'd prefer either a Dodge or Chrysler, please," she added, supplying the reservation number.

"I'm afraid we don't have any left on the lot. If you'd gotten here sooner, we had two PT Cruisers and a Challenger."

"What's left?" Cat closed her eye for a moment. 'Please, not a Shabby Lay. A 'Found on Road Dead' is more preferable.'

The rep indicated a bronze Chevy HHR rolling out of the detailing bay. "It's a 2010 Chevrolet HHR, Ms. Marshall."

"It kinda looks like a PT," Alex observed with an innocent grin.

"It is _nothin' _like the Cruiser!" she hissed, turning so the agent wouldn't see her dislike for the model. "And quit laughin' at me!"

Alex's eyes twinkled with amusement at her. "I'm not laughin' _at _you, baby!"

"Well, y'all ain't laughin' with me, cause I ain't laughin'!" she growled. "Gimme yer driver's license!"

Alex continued grinning as he handed over his license. She turned back to the rental agent with a weary sigh. "Here's our driver's licenses and my insurance card."

The agent made copies of their licenses and the insurance card before returning them. Then he passed the rental contract across the counter for Cat to sign.

"I'd like to do a walk around the vehicle, just to note anything that might be amiss before we take the thing," Alex stated, placing his hand over the contract. His tone indicated he wasn't making a suggestion.

"Certainly, sir," the agent stepped from behind the counter, carrying a clipboard with a vehicle drawing attached to it. The two men walked around the vehicle, Alex inspected every inch from several angles before he would allow Cat to sign the contract.

Before she slid behind the wheel, Cat buckled the safety harness into place so that it would foil the sensor. Alex stood in the open door so that she couldn't close it. He glared down at her, exasperated at her continued refusal to wear the safety harness.

"What?" She asked innocently.

He wordlessly pulled her toward the steering wheel, unbuckled the belt, pushed her back against the seat, and drew the harness across her chest, snapping it into place. Then he gave her a thorough kiss.

"Oh," she sighed. The moment made her think of the last time he'd buckled her into the safety harness. She forced the bittersweet memory away before she could flash back to the wreck.

"I'm gonna follow you," he huffed. "Do _not_ remove that belt. If you start havin' trouble seein' or get tired, pull over to the side of the road."

"And then what?" she replied.

"We'll play it by ear. Give me time to get the van, baby. We'll leave together."

She shook her head and started the engine to the rental. "It's more dangerous here for you than for me. The Mayans don't know me from any other white chick in town, so it's better if we keep some distance in town. I'll meet ya back at the garage, love!" She put the HHR in gear and was out on the street before he could take one step towards the van.

"Cat, wait!" he called out, running back to the van. 'Dammit to Hell! She forgot about the rally webcast! The Mayans could've watched that and know she's my woman!"

He jumped into the van and headed for the street, only to be held up by a funeral procession that seemed to consist of every licensed vehicle in town. He drummed his fingers impatiently, watching the cars pass slowly in front of him.

"C'mon, c'mon!" he murmured, tapping his hand on the steering wheel. He noticed with relief the procession was making a right turn at the next intersection. While he was cooling his heels in the rental lot, Cat and the HHR were getting farther ahead of him by the second.

The last car of the procession passed and he gunned the accelerator, pulling behind the slow moving line of cars before the stopped traffic on the street could begin moving. To his relief, the HHR was stopped at a traffic light a few blocks ahead of him.

Alex glanced in the rear – view mirror at the sound of Harley engines roaring up behind him. Dread rose like bile at the sight of a pair of Mayans. He didn't recognize the riders, and hoped they wouldn't spare a glance at him. They passed the driver's side of the van without a glance in his direction.

His relief was short lived as the Mayans drew up beside the waiting HHR at the light. Cat was sitting right next to one of the Mayans, her features plainly visible to the rider.

"Don't glance at 'em, baby. Just look straight ahead!" He murmured prayerfully, stopping behind the HHR. He could see Cat sitting with her right hand draped over the steering wheel, fingers moving in time with an upbeat Mellencamp tune that drifted to him from the rental's open windows.

'At least it's not that one about the '_Rural Route_',' he consoled himself. Despite the difference in music, the scene gave him a vivid sense of _deja vu_. Thinking of the crash chilled him to the bone.

Cat waited for the light to change, waving the hand draped over the steering wheel in time to _'Check It Out' _and singing along with the lyrics. She heard the Harleys pull up next to her at the light and glanced in the rear view mirror.

'Alex looks tense. Could that be Mayans next to me?' She turned her head entirely to her left and immediately realized the riders were Mayans.

'If I turn away and not acknowledge 'em, they'll feel disrespected. Could cause a problem,' she mused. Still singing along with the lyrics, she nodded, grinned, and gave the Mayans the same friendly thumbs up she gave the Sons and any other riders she'd met when she first started riding her own bike.

"Shit! I told ya not to look!" Alex swore, his hands tensing on the steering wheel. He shifted into park and reached behind the seat for his gun. 'If they make one false move -!'

He watched and waited tensely as the Mayans gunned their engines, waiting for the light to change. To his continued disbelief and horror, Cat held up her left hand in a thumbs up gesture.

"What the fuck are you doin'!" he cried, gripping the handle of his pistol. "Are ya tryin' to get yerself killed?"

The Mayan sitting next to the HHR saw Cat's gesture of approval. He grinned, nodded, revved his engine, and turned his head to speak to his brother, inclining his head at Cat. The other Mayan grinned and revved his engine, then both turned their attention back to the light, which turned green. Both Mayans shot forward into the intersection, leaving the HHR and a relieved Tig in their wake.

He clicked the safety back on the gun and placed it under his leg, following close behind the HHR until they'd passed the Oakland town line. Tig didn't relax until Oakland was nothing but a dot in the rear view mirror.

Cat's eyes began to water and sting about half way back to Charming, but she refused to pull over. She gripped the steering wheel, fighting to keep the car from weaving within her lane and grit her teeth against the building headache. 'I don't wanna stop and rest; just wanna get this damn thing home and outta the bright light!'

Alex's concern grew as he watched the HHR weave within the lane. Disregarding the state law against using cell phones while driving, he pulled out the two – way and pressed 'send'.

'I know she doesn't have it turned off!' he fumed when the voice mail picked up. He honked the horn and flashed the brights to get her attention and received a brief, friendly thumbs – up sign.

"You're _not _OK, damn you!" He flashed the headlights again and received another cheery wave.

The two – way rang again for her attention but she continued to ignore it. 'Alex will probably have lots to say about this when we get back to the garage!'

Alex seethed with frustration. "I swear to God, I'm gonna kill her if she doesn't kill herself first! Why is she bein' so fuckin' stubborn?" He sped up to pass the HHR, hoping to pull in front of it and force her to stop.

"Oh no you don't, stud muffin!" She saw the van move up to her right side and sped up, preventing Alex's maneuver. The most he was able to do was cruise alongside the HHR and glare angrily at her, motioning at her to pull over.

'I can tell she's hurtin'! Why won't she obey me?' he lowered the window of the van and hollered "Pull that fuckin' thing over right now!"

"I'm fine!" She shook her head and mouthed in reply. "Let's see what this Shabby Lay can do against its' cousin!" She saluted jauntily at him and pushed down on the accelerator, feeling a rush of triumph as the HHR raced away from the cumbersome van.

"Shit!" He pounded the van's steering wheel in frustration. 'I know she wants to get home, but what good is it if she hurts herself in the process? Damn her!'

As they drew near Charming, Alex was further annoyed when they were separated at a railroad crossing. The lights were flashing and bells were warning of an oncoming train. Cat didn't even slow the HHR, managing to pass over the tracks just before the crossing arm descended.

Alex considered crashing through the gate, but the train was rushing in front of him before he could follow through on the thought. He tapped the steering wheel impatiently, waiting for the train to pass. 'C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, dammit! Move!'

After interminable minutes that felt like hours, the last car of the train passed and the gate ascended. He mashed the accelerator and the van roared across the tracks, tires screaming in protest.

By the time he reached the Teller – Morrow lot, he was well into enraged territory. He caught sight of the HHR parked in front of his bay, and Cat crossing the lot from the clubhouse to the rental, a box awkwardly balanced in her arms.

Alex stopped the garage van behind the rental with a loud screech of tires that made the employees look up in surprise. He leapt out of the van and ran in front of her, blocking her path.

"What in the fuck were you thinkin', makin' that gesture at the Mayans back there!" he snarled.

"They'd have felt dissed if I'd ignored 'em," she replied reasonably. "You noticed they preened like macho assholes and then went on about their business after I waved at 'em."

"She's got a point," Chibs murmured to Piney as the men gathered near the couple to watch the firework display.

"Shhh!" Piney replied with a grin.

"That's not the point!" he growled. "They could've recognized you from the rally webcast! Zobelle had the Mayans in his back pocket!"

"Love, they couldn't have seen my injured eye behind these glasses," she replied quietly. "The camera was set to a wide shot, never a close up. Anyone who doesn't know me well wouldn't identify me later. Those Mayans paid no more attention to me than I did to them!"

"Damn you and your logic to Hell!" he snarled, resisting the urge to grab her by the arms and shake some sense into her. He knew she was right, and that made him more upset.

"Why didn't ya pull over when I signaled and called?" he snarled, knowing but not caring that they had an avid audience. "That bit of racin' on ahead of me and not lettin' me pass wasn't smart, either!"

"I didn't need to pull over!' she retorted, stepping around him and continuing towards the hatchback.

"God damn you! You are the _most_ annoying, frustrating, independent, stubborn – assed, willful woman I've ever encountered!" He exclaimed, following her as she placed the box in the hatch.

Cat turned and glared at him. "Look, Tig, I'm sorry y'all are upset. I'm not some fragile china doll! Lemme just get my damn boxes out of y'all's bay and loaded in the Shabby Lay! Then I'll gladly get outta yer hair!"

She stalked to the workbench, pulled the box of computer and karaoke equipment out from under it, and attempted to lift it.

"Move!" He ordered roughly, striding forward to help her.

"I don't need your help!" She retorted.

"I don't give a fuck!" he roared, snatching the box away from her and stalking to the open hatch of the HHR. He set the box in the hatch and shoved it to one side, making room for the second one.

The SAMCRO men and garage employees watched the exchange with wide grins of enjoyment lighting their faces. It wasn't often that anyone got the best of Tig, and they weren't going to miss a minute of it.

Cat pulled the other box out from under the workbench while Tig's back was turned. 'I'll get this loaded and get outta here; give him time to cool down.'

Alex turned in time to see her wrestling with the second box. He stalked back to the bench, grabbed the box, stalked to the back of the HHR, and threw the box next to its' cousin. Then he slammed the lid closed and stood thumping his head in frustration against the back window, moaning in distress.

Cat glared at his back, amused but mostly annoyed by his behavior. 'This alpha male shit is gettin' real old real fast! It's sweet of him to worry, but he's got it in overdrive!' She started after him, intending to tell him off, but his next comment stopped her in her tracks.

"I was nervous about bein' in Oakland so soon after the highway ambush, but was OK about it until I pulled behind you at the stop light. Seein' you sittin' the same way as the night of the wreck and hearin' that Mellencamp song took me right back to that awful night!" Tig moaned, barely loud enough for her to hear.

"Then I remembered the rally had on the world wide web; I thought the Mayans would recognize you when you looked at 'em and that I was gonna lose you for good when you looked at 'em and gave 'em that thumbs up!"

Cat's annoyance melted from his soft admission. She moved next to him, leaning against the hatchback and laid a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, love, for causin' y'all so much concern. Sure as Hell didn't mean for you to have a flashback to that night. Believe it or not, I really didn't intend to upset y'all."

"You sure as Hell did a good job of it!" He groaned. "What _is _it about you women that you insist on doin' the exact opposite of what we men tell you to do?"

"Because you men put the blame on us women for all y'all eatin' the Apple in the garden of Eden when it was really the serpent's fault!" She replied with a small smile. "We've been contrary ever since!"

"Baby, in your case, you work overtime at it!" he sighed, looking at her from the corner of his eye. A slight smile tugged at his lips in spite of his distress.

She nuzzled his arm with her cheek in a contrite gesture. "It's one of those more endearin' qualities of mine."

"Not sure how endearing it is, but is sure keeps me on guard!" he replied.

"I just wanted to get home. The sooner I'm home, the sooner I'm safe, wouldn't y'all agree?"

"Uh - huh. That's your story and you're stickin' to it."

She nodded, wincing as the gesture made her head and eyes ache.

He reached out a hand to her, the back of his knuckles caressing her cheek. "You're hurtin' aren't ya? Don't lie."

"I won't. I do."

He pulled the wraparounds and her regular glasses from her face and noticed that the gauze pad over her injured eye was soaking wet. 'That tears it!' Alex pulled out his cellphone and dialed Tara's cell number.

"Dr. Knowles."

"Hey, Doc. It's Tig. Cat's got a headache and her injured eye is waterin'. She says her light sensitivity is worse. That anything to worry about?"

"I don't know, Tig. Is she showing any other signs of distress with it?"

"Yeah, her good eye's waterin' too. She has on wraparound _and _clip – on suncheaters, but they don't seem to be helpin'. We just got back from Oakland; got her rental car."

"She drove that much?" Tara exclaimed.

"Just back. I took her to get it. No one was free to go with us," he explained gruffly.

"Get her back to your house. I'll consult with Dr. Symthe, the eye surgeon. Probably nothing to worry about. You can change the bandage can't you?"

"Yeah. No problem."

"Can I reach you at the house later?"

"Nah. I gotta work a few hours," Tig replied apologetically.

"I'll call your cell, then. If it's bad news, I don't want to alarm her."

"Thanks, Doc." He closed the cell phone and shoved it into his pocket.

"What's the verdict, love?"

"Prolly nothin' to worry about, baby. Tara's gonna check with the eye surgeon and call back. She suggested we get ya home. Does your head hurt bad?"

"It's bearable," she sighed. "I can deal long enough to get home."

"No you don't," he assured her. "Chibs!" He hollered across the suddenly industrious garage. The rider looked up inquiringly. "Ya up to drivin'?"

Chibs walked over to them, wiping his hands on a rag. "Aye. Lady Cat need a lift?"

"No. I will. I'm takin' her back to the house. She over did – _again_. C'mon out with the van and pick me up, would ya?"

"Aye, bruther. Behayve yerself, Lady Cat," Chibs replied. "Let tha mon tyke care 'o ye."

"You heard the man, baby," Tig added, taking her by the elbow and leading her to the HHR. He helped her into the passenger seat, then went around to the driver's side.

"Pick me up in half an hour, Chibs." He glared at the suddenly industriously busy men and hollered, "Don't think I didn't see you assholes standin' around watching and laughing at me!"

Chibs grinned rakishly at him. "A'right."

Cat leaned her head back and adjusted the seat so that she was semi – reclining. "I'm not tryin' to be a temptress," she joked feebly.

"Could've fooled me," he replied dryly, pulling the HHR around in the drive and out into the street. He rubbed her stomach in a comforting manner. "Just relax, baby. I know you're hurtin'. Don't want ya gettin' sick like that other time."

"It's not _that _bad, love." They drove in silence for a bit, then she added, "Mind if I run an idea by y'all?"

"Go ahead."

"Been thinkin' about the situation we're facin' right now, and the tension that exists between us women."

"What about it?"

"Y'all have enough on your plate without worryin' about us fightin' amongst ourselves. We shouldn't be doin' that anyway. I don't have any designs on Jax or Opie, and I doubt Lyla and Tara have designs on you."

"Gee, thanks!" Alex cried, pretending to be mortally wounded by her comment.

"I didn't mean that the way it sounded, love!" she protested.

He smiled and rubbed her stomach again, bringing his hand to rest on her thigh. "I know you didn't. You're right. Things _would_ be easier if you women got along."

She nodded. "That's what I thought. While you're at work, I'm gonna have a little pow – wow with Lyla and Tara. Work things out between the three of us."

Alex looked at her for a moment, then turned his attention back to the road. "You're really takin' this standin' in for Gemma thing seriously."

She sighed in protest. "I'm just tryin' to do what Gemma would do. She asked me to watch out for all y'all. That means keepin' the peace so y'all can concentrate on the business at hand."

"She didn't ask you to run yourself into the ground!"

She turned her head to face him. "That's why I'm havin' the ladies come to our place, love. It's quiet and I don't have to go anywhere and cause you any undue worry."

"Then if you're askin' me if you should do this, I say Hell yeah!" He squeezed her thigh, this time conveying his appreciation for her insight and willingness to step up. "Now, it's my turn to run something past you. Chuckie."

"What about him?"

"He's gonna have to stay elsewhere while I'm gone," Alex replied. "It wouldn't look right for him to stay at the house with you."

She sat up so fast that Alex feared she'd go through the windshield. He put his hand out in front of her to keep that from happening.

"What the Hell do you mean, it wouldn't look right?"

"Do I have to spell it out, woman?" he replied gruffly. "You're my _wife_, and another man is _not _stayin' in _my _house while I'm outta town!"

Cat glared at him in astonishment. She didn't know whether to be pleased that he was courting the green – eyed monster or incensed over his chauvinistic attitude. "You've _got _to be kiddin' me!"

"I'm completely serious, baby. So shoot me!" He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white.

"Don't tempt me! Jesus, Alex! You must really not trust me! Dammit! I have _no_ interest in Chuckie like that!" she raged.

He glanced at her, then back at the street, signaled, and pulled over into a parking space. He shut off the engine and turned to look at her.

"You misunderstand, baby. Hell, I trust you more than I trust most other people!" He gazed intently at her, thinking to himself, 'Even more than some of my brothers.'

"C'mon, then! Do y'all think I can't protect myself from Chuckie - or anyone else for that matter - with one good arm?"

"That's not it either, Cat. It's just not a good idea for a married woman – or a club member's old lady – to allow another man to live with her when her man's outta town."

She grinned sarcastically. "Ah, ha! I get it. There are matters of propriety to consider!"

"Exactly. Sends the wrong message. I'm glad you understand," he replied, sighing with relief.

"I understand that a double standard exists!" she exclaimed angrily. "It's OK for _you_ to have your wrap and club parties; to have girls hangin' around in all manner of undress and comin' on to y'all! But I'm expected to toe some kind of moral line and not even _think_ about lookin' at another man! That's bullshit!"

Alex's lips quivered from attempting to keep from smiling. 'Never thought of it that way. She might be right about a double standard. Doesn't matter; I _still_ don't like the idea of any single man - even Chuckie - stayin' with her without me around!'

Cat's good eye blazed with outrage. "I'd think after all this time y'all would give me a frackin' break!"

"I _am_ giving you a break, baby, by tellin' you my feelings instead of whiskin' Chuckie away."

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" she asked incredulously.

"Very."

"You _do_ realize that sending Chuckie to stay elsewhere would leave me to look out for my own welfare."

"You think I haven't considered that!" he shouted. "I don't like _that_ idea, either! But you're gonna do what ya wanna no matter what! I doubt Chuckie's presence in the house would change anything!"

His comment reminded her that she'd put him through the emotional wringer on the way back from Oakland. She sighed resignedly. "I owe ya this one."

'Givin' in like this is hard for her.' Alex put his arms around her and drew her as close as the bucket seat allowed, leaning his head against hers.

"Thank you, baby," he whispered. "Maybe you could put in a call to Big Otto, see if he'd be willing to let Chuckie stay at his house for awhile."

"Take me home and I'll make the frackin' call."

"With pleasure!" He started the HHR and pulled out onto the street again. They didn't speak until they got home. Cat glanced wistfully at the garage door. Behind it, _Blackie II _sat on the battery tender, waiting for her.

"Can I trust you to leave that thing alone until your eye is healed, or am I gonna have to haul it to the garage and lock it down?" he growled, sensing her thoughts.

"You can leave him here," she replied. "I might have ridden once with a cast on my leg, but ridin' with one eye at my age is temptin' fate."

He glared at her. "What the fuck are you talking about? _When_ did you ride with a cast on your leg?"

"Relax. It was decades ago, love. I'll show ya the picture."

He checked the front porch again for bugs, this time using the device he'd used weeks earlier to find the bugs in Opie's truck. Satisfied the porch was clean, he unlocked the front door and they slipped inside before Ebony realized they were home.

Alex checked the rest of the house for bugs before pulling her into the bathroom and making her sit on the closed commode lid.

"I was checkin' for bugs; don't trust Stahl any further than I can throw her. We're clean. Now I can change that wet bandage," he explained.

Instead of the overhead light, he turned on the night light and closed the door. He took a clean washcloth from the linen closet and set out a gauze pad and tape.

"I want you to keep that damn eye shut, hear me?"

"You're the boss!" she grinned.

"Wish you'd remember that more often!" he growled, reaching out to remove the tape holding the soaked gauze in place. "This might hurt, baby."

"Just yank it!"

He shook his head. "Might pull the stitches. I'm gonna take this nice and easy on you, so sit still."

"Shit! I had somethin' else in mind, seein' as how y'all are in the perfect position!"

"Behave yourself, woman! Plenty of time for that once you're patched up." He placed his fingers along the tape and began to work it away from her skin.

"It's non stick tape, love. You can pull it faster than that. Want me to do it?" she offered.

"Nah. I got it." He pulled the tape from her face, then removed the soaked pad.

"How's it look?" She asked worriedly. "Is it nasty?"

"Looks like an eye. Bit bruised. Stitches look clean," he patted the area dry with the clean cloth, then placed a dry pad on it. He took her hands in his and placed them on either side of the pad. "Hold it down for me a minute. No peeking!"

He cut several pieces of tape then set the first piece across the top of the pad. "OK, you can put your hands down." He attached the other strips to the pad, making sure it was secure and allowed no light to filter in. "How's that feel?"

"Feels fine, love. So this is what's like for you when I change your bandages," she smiled slyly, reaching out to caress the bulge in his pants that was right at her nose.

"Yeah, you could say that," he replied. "The perks kinda make the pain worth it."

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He growled and dug it out, looking at the caller ID. His frown changed to worry when he saw the call was from Tara. "Hey, Doc!"

"I talked to Dr. Smythe, he said the heightened light sensitivity is to be expected. He wants her kept quiet the rest of the day and out of as much light as possible."

Alex rolled his eyes. "You don't know what a job that is, Doc! My girl has a mind of her own and follows it no matter what anyone else tells her!"

Cat flipped the bird at him and left the bathroom for the office. 'If he's gonna be disrespectful, at least he can do so behind my back!'

"Want me to talk to her?" Tara inquired laughingly.

"Dunno if it'll do any good, but you're welcome to try," he replied gratefully, following his lady to the office. "Here," he handed the phone to Cat. "Tara wants to talk to you."

"Hey, Tara. Gonna read me the riot act?" Cat greeted the physician while swatting Alex's roaming hands away. She accessed her email and opened one from Frosty containing the picture she wanted.

"A bit. Dr. Smythe was _not _pleased to hear you drove from Oakland to Charming. Neither was Dr. Gallagher. Are you trying to make your injuries worse?"

"No," she replied, swatting Alex's hands again.

"You shouldn't have made that invitation, baby!" he explained, coming in for another attack.

"Both doctors laid down the law. No driving. Definitely no riding. You need to stay in as much dim light as possible! No watching television, playing on the computer, or reading for the rest of today. Your eye needs to rest."

"Day - um! Am I allowed to breathe?" Cat groused. "Is there a restriction on sex in that list of don't's?"

Tara choked back a laugh. "Sorry, Cat. Neither doctor said anything against that. That's often done in a dark room, anyway."

"Hah! You don't know Tig!" Cat decided she'd better switch subjects as Alex was getting more insistent in his attentions. "By the way, are you gonna be free later today?"

"Yeah. Jax is still at the house. At least, he was last time I checked."

"The bike's still here. Didn't see him at the garage or the clubhouse," Cat assured her.

"Then he'll be OK if I don't come home right away after work. What's up?"

"Just wondered if you wouldn't mind stoppin' by so we could talk without the guys around."

Tara laughed. "Sure. I'd appreciate that, to be honest. Take something for that headache, by the way. That's why we sent the meds home with you."

"Yes, Doctor. Can you come out about two?"

"OK. Take care, Cat."

Alex reached out and retrieved his pre – paid, closed it, and put it in the pocket of his unzipped jeans. "You heard the Doc, no computer work!"

"I just wanted to show you the picture of me ridin' the bike with a cast on my leg!" she protested weakly, gesturing at the picture that she'd downloaded.

"Later!" he growled. "You did make an invitation _and_ a promise earlier!"

"I also mentioned having a headache earlier!" she snorted, giving him 'the look'.

His eyes darkened with concern. "Do you need a pain pill?"

She stood up and hugged him, laying her head on his chest. "I'd rather have you take the pain away, love," she whispered.

Chibs watched the HHR depart, then returned to his bay. 'Got time ta finish work on this vehicle,' he picked up a wrench and resumed his place under the raised vehicle. 'I bet tha' Shabby Lay is whot pissed Lady Cat off. She dinnae like 'em at tall!' he grinned. 'Tig's sometimes has a handful with 'er. She's not tha' type ta be subservient to any mon!'

His gaze fell on the sun – faded black plush cat he'd taken from the mangled PT. The stuffed animal rested on top of his cut. 'Guess I should return the wee beastie ta 'er. Grown a bit attached ta it.'

He shrugged the thoughts aside and returned to work. Once completed, he signaled to Dog to remove the vehicle from his bay, cleaned his hands, and shrugged into his cut. He stuffed the plush animal into an inner pocket then went in search of Piney.

"I'm 'eadin' out ta Cat 'n Tig's fer a wee mite. Tig took 'er 'ome wi' 'er rental an' needs a lift back."

"I saw them earlier," Piney acknowledged. "Go on but be quick about it, Chibs. We've gotta lot of work due out today."

"Aye," he nodded, snagged the keys to the garage van and sped away.

When he arrived at Cat and Tig's, he parked on the street and walked up to the front door. It was unlocked, but he called out a greeting as he walked inside, knowing Cat's penchant for tossing bats and asking questions later. "Aire ye decent?"

"You're askin' that of Tig?" Cat hollered from the bedroom. "Of course not! Be out in a bit!"

"Unless mebbe ye're interested inna threesum?"

"I told ya before, Chibs, I don't share well with others, and I'll never share Cat!"

"T'was just a liddle joke, mon!" Chibs protested.

Tig strode into the living room, glaring at his grinning friend. "Very little joke, man."

"Ye reddy? Piney seys we gotta lot o' werk ta git out."

"Not yet. Gotta do somethin' first. Can you keep Cat out of mischief for a minute or two?She's not 'sposed to watch TV or read and needs to stay out of strong light."

"Shure, I'll do me best."

"At what, darlin'?" Cat inquired as she joined them.

"Keepin' ye oot o' mischeef," Chibs replied as Alex walked back down the hallway.

"Not much I'm allowed to do the rest of the day," she mourned. "Can't watch TV, or read, or play on the computer."

"Ye've done too much a'ready. Ye gotta tyke better care o' yerself." Chibs replied.

"So everyone keeps tellin' me."

"Then ye shuld lairn to lissen," he chided her gently. "We've gotten to like ye, wanna keep ye around awhile."

"I'll give that all the due consideration I think it merits," she assured him innocently.

Chibs beamed approvingly, then he realized that she'd just managed to 'zing' him in the same manner she often teased Tig.

"Dammit, woman! Thot's exactly tha kinna thin' that upsets Tig! I'm serious, and yer makin' light o' it!" His glare softened as he added, "We _do_ care aboot ye, Lady Cat, an' dinnae want anythin' bad ta happen to ye. Let him tayke care o' ye fer once!"

Alex crept into the office and shut the door behind him, using the landline to make a long distance call. After the scare Cat had given him on the trip back from Oakland, he'd decided that Chibs could use backup in keeping her safe from the Mayans, and he knew who to ask.

"Hey chick! What the Hell are you thinkin', gettin' yourself out of the hospital so soon? You had to have gone AMA!" June's voice shrieked across the line.

"Hey, June. It's Alex. She didn't go entirely AMA, but pretty damn close to it." He winced and rubbed his ear.

"Alex! How are you? How's Cat? Is she OK?" June's voice was full of warmth for him and concern for her friend.

"Yeah. She's just tryin' my patience."

"So what else is new!" June laughed. "What's up?"

Alex knew June worked as a health information contractor, going from assignment to assignment all over the country. 'I'm hopin' she doesn't have an assignment at the moment.' He drew a deep breath and asked, "Are you free for a couple of weeks or so?"

"Unfortunately not," she replied. "In fact, I was planning to discuss my next assignment with Cat later. Turns out I'm being sent to Charming to work at St. Thomas for a couple of weeks. That hospital ring a bell?"

"I'm familiar with it," Alex grinned. "When do you start, doll?"

"I leave in a couple of days. The problem is with a hotel. Nearest residential inn is in Oakland. I don't know that area, and prefer to stay in the same town I'm working in. Thought maybe you and Cat might put me up."

"It's more than OK with me, doll. I've gotta go outta state on business. It's been planned awhile and I can't get out of it. You two could have a reunion without me under foot."

"Uh, huh. And you'd have someone Cat trusts to watch out for her and keep you from worrying." June replied dryly.

"That, too."

"You do realize, Alex, I won't be able to ride herd on our girl 24/7," June added. "I love the idea of bein' able to spend time with her, but don't want you to have the wrong idea."

"I understand, doll. I just don't want her stayin' completely by herself until she's stronger."

"That's bullshit, Alex!" June snapped. "If that were the case, you wouldn't be leavin' her! What the Hell is goin' on over there? I've read the San Joaquin newspaper on line."

Alex winced. 'Damn internet! Big pain in the ass!'

"I already know you're not just some mechanic and part time entrepreneur! That story's fine for Rev. Marshall, but I know better!" June added furiously.

"What do ya mean, sweetheart?"

"Cat leveled with me when y'all got hurt on that charity run. I know that you're in an outlaw motorcycle club. I accept that about y'all because you treat Cat well and I love her. But I need to know just how much danger I'm lettin' myself in for by stayin' with her."

'Shit! I don't need this right now!' Alex massaged his nose with the fingers of one hand and drew a deep breath. "Doll, I'll be honest. There's always danger. The club will watch out for her. Cat's smart. She has protection and knows how to use it. If you're lookin' for a hundred percent guarantee that you two will be safe, then maybe you'd be better off not comin' around Cat at all."

A long silence followed his comment. Alex could hear her breathing, so knew she hadn't hung up on him. 'I might've just ended a long friendship between the two of 'em. Hope Cat'll forgive me.'

"I appreciate you tellin' me the truth, Alex," June finally replied. "If you'd told me there was nothin' to worry about, I'd know you were lyin' and think a Hell of a lot less of you. I'll call Cat later, work out the details. In the meantime, I'll tell the company I've got a place to stay."

'Women!' He breathed a small sigh of relief. "I understand, doll. Thanks."

"I'm doin' this for Cat," she replied tersely.

"D'ya know what airport you'll be flying into?"

"Not yet. I'll be gettin' a rental through the company and have my own GPS. I'll have no trouble gettin' around on my own."

'She's not happy with me,' Alex winced at the continued hard edge in June's voice. "I'll be gone when you get here, doll. Sorry I won't be around to meet ya."

"You just take care of our girl, Alex, until you leave."

"Guess the jury's still out about me?" he asked with a small laugh.

"I'll tell ya what Cat once told my now ex boyfriend. I don't have a problem with ya, so long as you treat my girl right. I might not be comfortable with what you do, but I'm fine with who ya are." June disconnected the line and Alex hung up the phone, feeling chastised but satisfied.

Cat pulled out her cell phone and dialed Lyla's number while Chibs fixed a cup of crushed ice for her. Lyla's cell rang several times, then went to voice mail.

"Hey, Lyla, this is Cat. I appreciate your help last night, and wondered if you could be kind enough to stop by the house this afternoon about two? You can bring Piper if you need to. I'd like to smooth things over between us. Please let me know if you can make it or not, sorry for the short notice." She left her own cell number.

Chibs handed her the cup of ice and sat down on the couch next to her. "Whut aire ye up to now, sis?"

She shrugged. "Just tryin' to smooth things over between us girls."

"Tig know aboot it?"

She nodded. "I already got his permission. Why the third degree?"

"Cause ye bin tormentin' Tig sumthin' awful, darlin'. 'Tain't fair ta th' lad."

She blushed at the comment. "All y'all saw that bit at the garage, eh?"

"Kinda 'ard ta miss. Ye wasn't loud, but Tig's displeasure was kinda obvious. Why do ye enjoy makin' 'im worry like tha'?"

She shook her head vehemently, then wished she hadn't. "Damn headache!"

"I thin' I left tha' aspirin on tha' table next ta ye," he offered.

"Already took somethin' the hospital sent home, it's just not hit yet," she replied. "But honestly, Chibs! I _don't_ enjoy makin' Tig miserable! It's just not in my nature to be obedient."

"Ach! I thin' I unnerstand," Chibs grinned. "Ye wimmin ten ta be gud at givin' care, but takin' it frum yer mon 'tis a different matter. And ye dinna like ta be told whut ta do. Fi's a lot like tha. Like ta drive me up tha wall!"

"She still in town?"

Chibs shook his head, his eyes darkening with sadness. "Nay. That basturd Jimmy O shipped 'er back ta Belfast before Cameron Hayes took Abel. I've not 'eard a wurd aboot 'er since."

"I'm sorry, Chibs. It must hurt not knowin' what's goin' on with her."

"Aye," he sighed. He covered her hand with his own and squeezed it reassuringly.

"I 'ave sumthin' for ye, lass. I kinda took possession of it while ye was laid up after th' wreck." He reached into his cut and withdrew the sun – faded plush black cat.

Her unbandaged eye widened in surprise. "Y'all been carryin' him around with ya all this time?"

"Aye. I cleared oot tha' PT, and sumthin' aboot tha wee beastie made me feel better. 'Twas a comfert when ye was first injured."

She smiled up at him and closed his hand over the plush. "Then y'all keep it, Chibs. Everyone needs a 'woobie' of some kind, even an adult. That critter is your woobie. It'll be our secret."

Alex strode into the living room just as Chibs secured the plush back in his cut pocket.

"Get your mysterious task completed love?" she grinned at him.

He assumed an air of injured dignity. "What makes you think I was up to anythin'?"

"Y'all are lookin' a little too self – satisfied and smug."

"Your imagination's runnin' wild, woman!" He protested. "Did ya call Lyla and Rosen's office?"

"Already left a message for both, love. Dunno if Lyla's busy or still in a snit and avoidin' me."

Alex walked over to her and put his hand under her chin to raise her face up so he could see her eye. "You gonna be a'right for a few hours, baby?"

She smiled reassuringly at him. "Sure, love. The kids are right out back. If I have any difficulties, they're just a phone call away."

"You can call me, y'know," he replied softly.

"I know that, love. The kids can get to me a little quicker is all. The only thing I'm worried about it goin' stir crazy from all the restrictions!"

"Just to make sure you don't get any bright ideas, I'm takin' both sets of keys to the rental and the bike keys," Alex retorted. "It's not that I don't trust you, just removin' temptation."

"Uh – huh," Cat murmured disbelievingly.

"I'll unload the car. You can put your stuff away from the boxes," he offered.

"I'll help ye bring 'em in," Chibs added.

The pair walked out to the rental, unloaded the boxes, and carried them into the office.

"Looks like ye remembered ta git yer moovies," Chibs observed, drawing Cat into his arms for a swift goodbye hug. "Puttin' yer stuff away should keep ye oot o' mischeef fer a wee bit!" He glanced at Tig's smoldering expression as he released her. "I'll wait for ye in the van, Tig."

As Chibs left the house, Alex pulled her into his arms, laying his chin on her head while she returned the embrace and snuggled against his chest. "_Please_ don't overdo it this afternoon with the girls, OK?"

"Just offerin' coffee, tea, and a little talk, love. No five course dinner."

"Any chili left over from last night?"

She nodded. "Surprised me, but there's a good bit left. Guess y'all were off yer feed last night."

"Means more for me tonight!" He put his hand under chin, lifting her face up so he could kiss her goodbye. His kiss was passionate and thorough.

"See ya when I see ya, love," she said when he released her and headed for the door.

Tig closed his cell phone with a satisfied grunt and stared pensively out the window of the van as Chibs piloted it back to Teller – Morrow.

"Tha' wasna verra nice, callin' the coffeehoose on Lady Cat. It _is_ her business ta run, she needs ta oversee sum o' tha operation!"

"If I know my girl, she won't just oversee, she'll get herself in the thick of it!" Tig protested.

"She's grown an' quite capable, ifn' not a wee bit headstrong." Chibs ventured reassuringly.

"Bullshit! She probably got into somethin' as soon as we pulled off! The damn stubborn female!" He looked out the windshield and lit a cigarette. "How in the Hell can I go outta state when I know damn good and well she's not gonna take care of herself?"

"Ye will because she's gonna send ye on yer way, an' because ye know I'll watch oot fer 'er," Chibs grinned at him. "'Sides, do ye really want 'er ta be a clingin' vine?"

Tig shuddered. "Hell no! I just wish she'd listen to me once in awhile! I do know a _few_ things about Life, for fuck's sake!"

"She _does_ listen ta ye, Tig, but she maykes 'er own decisions, whether ye like 'em or naught. She's a lot like Fi. Both of 'em aire smart an' independent. They worry ye ta death when they don't tayke yer advice. Dinna know whut ye're complainin' aboot. Seems like tha' independent streak is one o' tha thin's that drew ye to 'er."

"It is, man. I can't stand clingy females; the type that drape themselves all over ya and don't let ya breathe. Cat doesn't believe in playin' games. I can shut my eyes around her. D'ya know what that's like?"

Chibs smiled sadly. "Aye, brother."

'Shit!' Tig blew smoke through his nose and gazed at his friend. "I'm sorry, brother. You miss Fiona."

"Aye."

"Is she worth it?"

Chibs was silent for a moment, then glanced at Tig. "Aye. Is Cat?"

Tig looked out the window again, smoke from his cigarette curled from his lips. "Yeah."

As soon as the garage van pulled away from the house, Cat ventured out the back door to the coffeehouse.

Chuckie was working in the back area, filling the web orders that had come in overnight. "Miss Cat, aren't you supposed to be at the house resting your eyes?"

"So Tig's put the word out already!" she mused. "Didn't take him long."

"He just doesn't want you to relapse," Chuckie explained.

"I know, I know! I'm just here to settle up for breakfast and check on things. Then I'll go back into hibernation, OK?"

Chuckie grinned at her. "I accept that."

"And you can tell Tig that, too," she growled. "Everythin's goin' all right I take it?"

"Yup. All the reports are done and stock updated. I'm just taking care of the web orders for shipping."

"Good man. I didn't get time to talk much with ya this morning. Thanks for feedin' the cats for me. Did y'all sleep OK? Were you warm enough?"

Chuckie paused a moment in his work, surprised by the questions. 'It's been a long time since anyone's cared about how I slept or if I was warm!' A slow smile crossed his face.

"I slept great, Miss Cat, and warm, too! As for the cats, I enjoyed feeding them. The Siamese and the big black one made up to me."

"They're a pair of attention hoes, when they want something. They'll ignore y'all otherwise," she grinned.

"I accept that."

"I'm gonna get outta your hair and let y'all get back to work," she replied. "Talk to ya later." She ambled on into the front portion of the coffeehouse to speak to her staff and assure them she was OK.

"Welcome back, Miss Cat!" Adrian cried when he saw her enter the front. "Pete said you got out of the hospital last night! Mr. Tig just called and said you'd be over. He also said not to let you do much."

"I figured as much," she replied. "I'm glad to be back."

"Got something to show you," Adrian pulled his large sketchbook from under the counter. "I brought it and was gonna show it to you later. Now seems as good a time as any." He opened the book and placed it on the counter.

Cat moved forward and gazed at a portrait of Kip's boyish face looking back at her. A banner above his head read "_Charming Pawse_ mourns our friend, Kip Epps; the Sons of Anarchy's Prospect."

She fought back tears at the tribute. "That's beautiful, Adrian. Did you draw that from memory?"

"Yes, ma'am. I thought we could put it near the cat window," he replied shyly.

"That's a wonderful idea. Will you make it so? Have Chuckie give you some money from petty cash to purchase a suitable frame. I want it displayed proper."

"Yes, ma'am!" Adrian replied enthusiastically.

Two of the regular customers who enjoyed reading and drinking coffee during 'the lull' approached and examined the drawing. "That's very good," one of them offered. "I'm really sorry the young man was killed."

"Yeah, so am I," the other added. "The Sons have done a lot for our town. We're glad they drove that bigot and his bunch out, we don't need that type here!"

"We heard the Amber Alert was canceled. Was the baby found?"

Cat shook her head. She'd thought she'd come to terms with Stahl's action. The innocent inquiries of her patrons reminded her of her innocent part in the Amber Alert's cancellation. Her sense of responsibility went into overdrive.

"No, he's still missing," she replied softly. "Cameron Hayes is dangerous and Abel could be at risk."

The first customer started in surprise. "Isn't that kind of unusual? I thought the Alerts stayed in effect until the child was found!"

"I don't know the particulars, folks," Cat shrugged. "Abel's still missing is all I do know."

"Well, the Sons have our condolences. If there's anything we can do," the first replied sincerely.

"The club definitely appreciates your condolences, and prayers for the baby's safe return."

The two customers gazed at her. "Is there any word on the funeral for the young rider?"

"No. The police are still investigating his murder. Please watch the papers for a funeral notice. We'll try to have something on the website as well." She smiled sadly at the customers and turned back to her office.

'Whew! If the customers are offerin' condolences, God only knows what the Facebook and web pages look like!'

She sat down at her desk and rested her head in her hands. 'Can't sit like this for long, or someone'll call Tig and he'll be on the warpath! I need to check those websites, restrictions be damned!'

She started to log into the computer when a folder laying in the center of the neat desk caught her attention. "Printed comments for Miss Cat" was labeled on the tab in Pete's careful script. She opened the folder to find print outs of the condolences to the Sons on Kip's loss and the kidnapping, as well as get well wishes for her.

On the top of the pile of printed pages was a draft of a thank you note. 'Somebody's been busy this mornin'!' She smiled fondly, guessing who that somebody had been.

A discreet cough interrupted her thoughts. "Maybe I should read that to you, Miss Cat," Chuckie offered. "Tig said you're not supposed to be reading today."

She gestured to the chair next to her desk. "Seems to me that Tig's been a busy boy!"

Chuckie grinned as he took the paper and sat down next to her. "He just made a quick call to us. He cares, in case you haven't noticed."

"I've noticed, darlin'. Believe me, I've noticed."

"I accept that." Chuckie cleared his throat and read the draft. "'_I appreciate all the kind __thoughts and prayers related to my recent __accident and recovery. I'm out of the hospital and recovering at home. I'm also deeply __grateful for your sincere condolences regarding __the death of one of my friends Kip Epps, who __was one of my business partners. I will definitely pass along your thoughts to the Sons __of Anarchy. (signed) Cat Marshall_'."

Chuckie looked up expectantly. "Naturally, if there's any changes you want to make -"

She shook her head. "It's perfect the way it is. Go ahead and post it on both pages."

"I accept that," he replied. "By the way, we're getting low on Bobby's bread. I took the liberty of leaving a message for him."

"Thanks, Chuckie. You're a big help. I don't know if Bobby's gonna have time to do any baking, but we'll deal with it."

"I accept that. Don't you think it's time for you to go home and rest your eyes?"

She smiled a bit, though she felt a little annoyed at being treated like an invalid. "OK, don't go rattin' me out to Tig! I'm goin'!" she replied testily.

"We're just looking out for you, Miss Cat," Chuckie replied good naturedly.

"Who's we? You got a mouse in your pocket?"

She growled.

"No. Me, Tig, your employees. We don't want to see you have to go back to the hospital."

"All right, Chuckie. I accept that." She stood up and walked out of the office towards the back door. "By the way, give Adrian some money from petty cash to have that drawing of Kip properly framed."

"I accept that," he replied.

She strode across the back yard, sensing that Chuckie was watching her. She turned at her own back door and saw him leaning against the gate door. She waved and ducked into her house. "Men!"

Chibs parked the van in its' customary spot and killed the engine. "Before ye start work, Clay wants ta talk ta ye. Thin' 'e's in tha clubhoose."

Tig walked into the clubhouse to find Clay waiting at the bar for him. "Cat doing OK?"

"Not really. I had to let her drive from Oakland back here, and her eyes started to bother her. Tara checked with the eye surgeon, nothing to worry about right now. She's on restriction the rest of the day."

Clay grimaced in sympathy. "Good luck brother!"

"You know it, man. I put Chuckie and the staff on alert to keep an eye on her."

Clay stood up, clapped one hand on Tig's shoulder. "Like that'll do any good?"

"It's a start, man."

"C'mon into the chapel. StoneCoyote and the Rogue River prez are waitin' on us."

Tig noticed that the clubhouse was already returning to normal. The families had already returned to their homes. The charters and nomads had cleared out. Only the two charter presidents remained.

'Kozik's long gone, along with the rest of the Tacoma bunch!' he thought with relief. 'If the Rogue River and Portland charters are here, Gemma and Unser must've crossed the state line.'

Tig and Clay settled in their seats. StoneCoyote occupied Juice's chair, the Rogue River president was in Opie's.

"So what do we know?" Tig inquired, lighting a cigarette.

"Unser set Gemma up in a hotel room near Rogue River. He's on the way back," Clay replied. "StoneCoyote's bunch left last night to take over."

"I stayed behind to co-ordinate with you and Rogue River," StoneCoyote added. "GreyRider checked in, she's doing a'right."

"Gemma's family is in Klamath Falls," Tig frowned. "Any chance she might want to reach out?"

Clay shook her head. "Nate's got dementia, pretty bad last Gemma heard. She won't make contact if there's any chance she'll have a run in with Rose. That woman would turn Gemma in without having second thoughts."

"Clay told us that Gemma isn't to know about the kidnappin'," StoneCoyote added. "I put the word out to my boys. Damn Feds had no right to call off the Alert. We'll do what we can to help find the kid."

"We'll alternate shifts with SAMPOR," the Rogue River president explained. "Once you're there, Tig, each charter will keep two guys on hand."

"I'll keep GreyRider and the others who stayed with Lady Cat at Rogue River," StoneCoyote added.

"With the bond from the Morado thing, it's best not to wear a rocker," Clay continued. "A Reaper would also draw too much attention."

"No one will consider it suspicious about my boys or Rogue River hanging around you," StoneCoyote interjected. "Anyone local will think we're just hangin' around a lone wolf."

"Sounds good," Tig acknowledged. "I'm takin' my back up Harley. No skulls or decals that will draw attention. Figured I'd check her out before I leave, make sure she's road ready. When do you want me there, Clay?"

Clay wanted to answer 'today', but Gemma was safe. They'd spoken earlier on GreyRider's phone. She knew to stay put until Tig joined up with her. She missed her family and the club.

Instead, Clay replied, "Day after tomorrow's fine. Get a couple of throw aways for yourself and Gemma before you go. Bobby has some travel money for you."

"If he needs to wire more, I figured out a safe name to use. Cat's former husband's name, Bill McLaughlin."

Clay nodded. "Go ahead and get your bike ready for the road, then take the rest of the day and be with Cat."

"How's she doin', anyway?" StoneCoyote asked.

"She's frustrating," Tig sighed.

"Yeah, I happened to see that earlier," Clay replied dryly.

"Sorry." Tig grimaced.

"Comes with the territory, brother," Clay stated sympathetically. "Gemma pulls the same shit on me."

"If we're good, I'm headin' back North," StoneCoyote announced. "Tig, give Lady Cat the charter's love. The guys would've come by to say goodbye before they left if things had been different."

"She understands, man." Tig stood up and hugged the SAMPOR president. "Thanks for your help in keepin' her safe for me, brother."

StoneCoyote nodded and left the chapel, followed by the Rogue River president. Tig and Clay resumed their seats to discuss more plans.

"We know Stahl lied about the deaths at the safe house. That led to Hayes' taking Abel."

"Think Hayes might be trying to find passage to Ireland?" Tig inquired.

"It's possible. I put a call in to McGee this morning, Belfast charter will keep an eye out."

"Isn't McGee's old lady a relative of Hayes?"

Clay nodded. "McGee's aware of that. He'll have someone watching her place."

"Wouldn't be surprised if Stahl doesn't issue a warrant for Gemma."

"She did. Five grand, keeps it within the state. We might be able to keep her out of Stahl's hands if it's not increased. Once you get up there, change towns every other day. Keep to roadside hotels, mom and pop operations. Don't use the room phones. Leave the garage credit card and any personal ones here."

"A'right. How's Jax?"

"Still sleepin' it off on Tara's couch." Clay sighed and raked a hand over his face.

"How're _you_ handlin' it, Clay?"

"I'm mad and frustrated. Don't like feelin' this helpless!" Clay admitted. "I miss Gemma and it's been less than a day!"

He stared out at the smoke drifting towards the ceiling from his cigar and sighed. "I know you're concerned about your woman. She just got out of the hospital and you wanna be with her. If I could rely on anyone else - "

Tig held up his hand. "Cat and I already talked about it. She really is OK with it. Hell, man, she damn near pushed me out the door!"

"Hmmm," Clay gazed inquiringly at his friend. "The only other woman I've known with as much acceptance for this life is Gemma."

Tig frowned for a moment, then shrugged and stubbed out his cigarette. "McLaughlin was a straight arrow and military. That and her bein' a preacher's kid prolly prepared her to accept what a lot of women can't or won't."

Clay had a feeling that Tig knew more than he was telling. 'Can't blame the man for not wanting to betray Cat's trust.' He drew a deep inhale on his cigar and replied, "She's definitely a keeper, Tig. Wish you two would come out of the closet. Would save _her _a lot of grief in the long run."

Tig winced at the reminder of KD's unremitted crush on him. "Yeah. I've considered it; even taken a step closer to it. Her radio friend Frosty is havin' our rings reworked. We'll not hafta hide 'em when we get 'em back."

Clay nodded. "That's a start."

"I need a favor, Clay. Chuckie's gonna need a place to crash while I'm gone. Cat put in a call to Rosen, asked him to reach out to Otto about his house. If that falls through or Rosen can't make contact, Chuckie will need to crash here."

"Makes sense," Clay agreed. "We can put him to work here instead of the coffeehouse. We're short a clean up man. Hate to take an employee away from Cat."

"She's not giving him up as an employee. Hell, she fought me about makin' Chuckie move out. Didn't see any reason for it and called me old fashioned."

Clay grinned wickedly. "Sounds like her, a'right. Apparently you 'persuaded' her to see things your way."

"Yeah," Tig shrugged. "Guess she'd be OK to handle local drivin', get him back and forth between the coffeehouse and here."

"At least we don't have to worry about that damn bond in Oregon bitin' ya in the ass again," Clay observed.

"I _knew _it'd been squashed; Bachman doesn't leave things to chance. But I'm glad Cat had Rosen look into it. One last thing I gotta worry about while I'm up there."

The two stood up, embraced, and walked out of the chapel. Clay crossed to the garage while Tig strode to the storage unit where his back – up Harley was stored.

The large Harley was a solid blue with highway bars. The ignition key hung on the same ring as his key to the _MF6. _'Gotta remember to leave that key with the title at impound,' he reminded himself.

He straddled the Harley, turned the key, and pressed the starter. Though he hadn't had time to service it lately, the engine immediately roared to life, idling to a loud purr. He smiled at the sound of the engine's rumble, the feel of the throttle under his hand and the machine between his legs.

He rolled the Harley into his bay and shut off the engine, dismounted, and began to check over every inch of the motorcycle. 'I don't want any surprises like what happened with Bobby's Fatboy.'

Cat checked the voice mail on the house land line when she returned from the coffeehouse. There was no message from Lyla. She tried Lyla's number again, but hung up before the voice mail picked up.

Her head ached a bit from the morning's activities, and she considered taking a brief nap. Her desire to get the other two club women together was more pressing than her own personal discomfort.

'I really hate to bother Alex at work with something this mundane. I don't have Opie's number and don't wanna tie up the shop line with personal bullshit,' she shrugged, pulled out the two – way and pressed the 'send' button.

Alex felt the two – way vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out worriedly. 'Cat hardly ever calls me!' He flipped the phone over and asked "You a'right, baby?"

'Shit! What was I thinkin'?' she winced at the concern evident in his voice. "I'm fine, love. I'm sorry to scare y'all by callin' and buggin' ya. Just need a favor."

Alex breathed a small sigh of relief. "What's up?"

"Would y'all ask Opie to contact Lyla and find out if she's gonna be able to come over? I've called twice, left a message, but she hasn't responded yea or nay. I'm really sorry to bother ya," she replied contritely.

"Baby, you hardly ever call me; guess that's why I thought somethin' was wrong," he assured her. "Don't you _ever _think you bother me!"

"Thanks, love. Appreciate it."

"Any word from Rosen yet?" he asked, wanting to listen to her voice a little longer.

"No. I have a feelin' that the warden isn't in a hurry to get a message to solitary," she replied.  
"Guess I'll have to see about one of those sleepin' rooms for him."

"I spoke with Clay, he can stay at the clubhouse. He can work there, too. Take some of the burden off your finances."

"He's not a burden! Chuckie's a real help in the back area. Surely you won't mind me takin' him back and forth from the coffeehouse to the clubhouse!"

'There she goes, readin' my mind again!' He wrinkled his nose and replied, "We'll discuss it later, baby."

"OK. See ya when I see ya."

Alex grinned at the 'call ended' message that lit the screen. 'Another good thing about her, she doesn't keep me on the line with bull shit and idle chit- chat.'

Opie was working on a brake job in his own bay. Tig sauntered across the garage and waited for Opie to turn to his tool box for another wrench to speak.

"What's up, Tig?" Opie inquired quietly.

"Got a request for you from Cat. She's tryin' to get Tara and Lyla together, iron out differences between them. It won't do her any good to have to do the same thing twice."

Opie stared at Tig. "Did Lyla blow her off?"

"Dunno," Tig shrugged. "She hasn't responded to Cat's message one way or the other. Tara's gonna be there about two."

'Lyla doesn't seem to remember her promise last night,' Opie thought over the situation. 'Would be great to have the women get along, and Cat might be able to make it happen.' He stared at Tig for a moment before nodding. "I'll call her and have her contact Cat."

"Thanks, brother," Tig replied before turning back to his bay. He felt Opie's unsmiling gaze follow him. 'He's not forgotten that I killed Donna. That fence is gonna take a long time to mend, if ever.'

Once assured that Tig was back to work on his bike, Opie pulled out his cell and dialed Lyla's number.

"Hi, handsome!" Lyla breathed huskily in his ear.

"Did Cat call you today about getting together?"

'How did he know I was ducking her? Did that bitch call him?' Lyla flushed, but her voice didn't give away her discomfort. "Yes. I just haven't had time to call her back."

'Yeah, right. It's not like she's got a heavy shooting schedule or anything else pressing on her calendar!' Opie frowned intently at her outright lie. "Call her. Tell her you'll meet with her." His tone was brisk and no nonsense.

"It sounds like you're ordering me to meet her, Ope," Lyla replied, her tone of voice mirrored her annoyance.

"Consider it more a strong suggestion based on our conversation last night," he countered.

'God! Like I really want to be subjected to more second class treatment from that broad!' She rolled her eyes and snorted derisively. "Do I have to?"

"Please. Do it as a favor to me," he urged.

"Fine!" she spat. "I'll go. I'll call her and let her know I'm coming! Hope you're happy now!"

"Ecstatic," he replied in the same brisk manner before he shut off the phone.

Lyla stared at her phone in anger. "I don't believe it! He hung up on me!" She pouted for a few minutes, then accessed her voice mail and listened to Cat's message.

"She sounds like she's being nice about it, and says I can bring Piper. I'll give it a try, for Opie's sake!"

It took little time to unpack the boxes Alex and Chibs had unloaded from the rental for her. Cat had everything put away within ten minutes, then lay down on the bed to rest. She was out like a light when Lyla called.

Chuckie heard the phone ring as he entered the back door and picked it up. "Marshall – Trager residence. This is Chuckie."

"Hi, Chuckie. It's Lyla. Is Cat available?"

"She's here. I think she's resting. Can I take a message?"

Lyla sighed. "I got her message, and Piper and I will be there at two like she asked. If she's not feeling up to it, just let me know. I'll have the cell on. She's got my phone number."

"I accept that. Take care, Miss Lyla," Chuckie replied.

He walked into the hallway and saw that Cat was lying on the bed in the darkened master bedroom. 'She must be worn out, poor gal!' He quietly walked down the hall and closed the door to the bedroom so she wouldn't be disturbed.

'I'll wake her in a little bit. If Lyla's coming over at two, Cat can get a good nap. That might help her.'

He sat down in the television area. turned on the set, and channel surfed, keeping the volume low. 'There's got to be something worth watching on all these channels!' He flipped through soap operas, talk shows, infomercials, game shows, music videos, and finally found an old black and white movie that captured his attention.

Just as he was going to get up to wake her, Cat wondered out into the television area, yawning and running her hand through her hair. "Didn't hear y'all come in."

"Hi! I was just going to wake you," he replied.

"That's OK. Appreciate the thought. Have you had anything to eat today?"

"Yes, Mom," he grinned. "Chili this morning and a sandwich after work. I walked down to the diner across from Zobelle's store. It's boarded up."

"I'm not surprised by that and I'm not your mom!"

"I accept that, but you're looking out for me. I accept that, too."

She gazed intently at him. "I have a feelin' there's not been a lot of that in y'all's past."

He shrugged. "My previous maladjustment made that difficult for most people to see past it to allow them to care."

Cat shook her head. "Appearances can be deceiving. I should know. People can be beautiful on the outside and rotten to the core."

They remained quiet for a few more moments, then Cat sighed and added, "We need to talk, Chuckie. I'm afraid there's gotta be a change in your lodging."

Chuckie felt as if the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. His face assumed a guarded expression.

"Relax, darlin', you haven't done anything to upset me or Tig!" Cat assured him. "It's just that Tig is leavin' to protect Gemma. He's got a wild hair up his ass about y'all stayin' here without him bein' present."

Chuckie smiled in relief. "I accept that."

"Well I don't!" she growled. "Tig has an annoying tendency to be over possessive and over protective of me. This is the 21st century for cryin' out loud! It's not like we're gonna get it on in his absence! He's behaving' like we're livin' in the dark ages!"

"If I were in his shoes, I'd feel the same way," Chuckie replied. "I understand how he feels, Miss Cat. He wants to protect you. And he's right, it wouldn't look right for me to stay here with you while he's away."

She favored him with 'the look'. "Tig's arranged for you to stay in one of the rooms at the clubhouse. Clay's offered to let you work there – makin' coffee, tendin' bar, cleanin' up the joint, helpin' with the garage office – all that kinda thing. Between that and your time at the coffeehouse, y'all will have some decent pocket money."

"But how will I get to the clubhouse and back here?"

She grinned mischievously. "I can handle the local driving, Chuckie, so I'll be your taxi." She wandered into the kitchen to start a fresh pot of coffee for the women. "I'm having Tara and Lyla over, do y'all mind watchin' TV in the office?"

"May I go on the computer?"

"As long as you don't download porn," she replied.

"I accept that." He turned off the television and headed at a run for the office.

She set up the television for Piper, loading a DVD of _'Looney Tunes'_ cartoons in the player. 'That should keep him occupied. I'll pop a small bag of popcorn for him, too. He can have his own movie party while we big girls natter away.'

Tig wiped the last smudge from his back up Harley with a satisfied smile. 'All set and ready for the road,' he thought. 'I gotta take Cat out on this one of these days.'

"Tig!" Juice hollered from the door of the bay. "Chapel, now!"

"A'right!" He threw the rag at his workbench and shrugged out of his work shirt, putting his cut on as he strode across the lot.

The rest of the club was settling into their seats when he walked in. Jax was the only exception. Tig slid into his chair and waited expectantly.

"Just heard from Rosen," Clay announced. "Sack's body will be released in a couple of days. He had a life insurance policy that will pay for the expenses for his funeral; the leftover is to be split between us, his parents, and Cherry."

"We were discussin' havin' him patch in before we hunted down Zobelle and Weston," Bobby added. "Think it's only right to proceed with that."

"I second it," Chibs stated.

"Can we vote without Jax?" Opie asked, eyeing the vacant VP chair.

"I have his proxy. Called him and asked his input, he's in agreement. All those in favor," Clay raised his hand. The vote was quick and unanimous.

"Motion carried," Clay tapped his gavel on the table. "Next item, we need to select a casket for the kid."

"Did Rosen have anything else to tell us about Sack's 'estate'?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah. He stipulated that donations be made to the club medical fund and the USO," Clay responded. "I contacted his parents, they're coming to the funeral. They said there's nothing from his apartment that they want; someone will have to clean it out."

"Sack was only a year out of the military; it's likely the Army will be involved in the service," Juice offered.

"We'll co - ordinate with them. Most of us have military ties. That won't be a problem." Clay stated.

"Juice and I can take care of Sack's apartment," Opie offered. "We'll do that this evening."

"Guess 'is clothes 'n thins can be offered ta Gudwill or Salvation Army," Chibs added. "Ifn' ye want enny o' 'is thin's as a keepsayke, take it."

"Then we're done here," Clay tapped his gavel again, signaling adjournment.

Chibs remained seated in his chair, holding his head in his hands. Talking about Sack's arrangements had hurt him. He wanted a few minutes to gather himself before returning to work.

Tig also remained seated. He knew Chibs was hurting. The talk about cleaning out Sack's apartment reminded him of the _MF6_.

He waited until the chapel was clear before speaking. "Chibs, I never thanked you for takin' care of clearing out the PT after the accident. That had to be difficult, man."

"'Twas nothin'. Wooda been 'arder fer ye," Chibs replied.

"Is it as bad as I think it is?"

"Aye. 'Tis a mess. Why?"

"I've gotta run the signed title and the keys to impound. The adjuster's comin' out to haul it off. Just thought I'd prepare myself for the sight of it."

"'Tain't gonna be an easy thin' ta see, bruther. Gud idea not ta let Lady Cat set eyes on it."

"You OK about Sack?"

"No, but I'm gettin' there," Chibs sighed. "'Twill tayke time, bruther. Thanks fer askin'. Gud luck at impound."

"Yeah. Thanks." Tig stood up and walked out of the chapel. He looked for Clay and found him standing at the bar.

"I have to run to the impound lot, take the keys and the title to the PT over. Thought afterwards I'd run by the house with the flatbed, take Jax's bike over to his house."

"Appreciate that. We're too busy to spare anyone. Bring me the keys."

"I might not be able to. Cat's invited Tara and Lyla over to iron things out so they get along better. I suspect Cat will give the keys to Tara before I can get 'em."

"No problem then. Just take care of the bike, that'll be a big help, and once you drop off the truck, go home and stay home."

"A'right."

Tig strode to his Dyna, mounted, started it up, and headed for the street. 'I'll get the stuff to the PT first, then get the flatbed. Can get Chuckie while I'm out at the house, get him relocated here before I head home for the night. Hope things are goin' all right for Cat and the girls.'

Chuckie powered up the computer in the office before realizing that he didn't have a user name or password for access. To his surprise, a user portal that required no password was already set up for him. He clicked on the icon labeled 'Chuckie's Lair'. The wallpaper that greeted him was a note:

"_Hey! Knew y'all would be goin' on line eventually. Tig's and my user names are password protected. You can set one up for yours if you want; your privacy is completely __your own on this computer. Feel free to put any wallpaper on here you wish, and change your icon to what you want, except nekkid women._"

"I accept that!" he grinned.

"_You can use our internet account, it has unlimited access, so no worries about how long you spend on the computer. Enjoy! (signed) Tig and Cat_."

"I wasn't allowed access at Caracara, and didn't want to even try at the coffeehouse! This is nice of Miss Cat. Tig's name might be on the note too, but I know it was all her doing."

He accessed the internet to find a wallpaper of his own liking and set it up as his desktop background. Satisfied with the results, he fished a flash drive out of his shirt pocket and inserted it in the tower.

He commanded the system to open a file from the flash drive, then accessed an off – shore account he'd set up while working off his debt to Lin.

'I learned to be more careful about skimming after getting caught he first time. Lin took away most of my fingers; this skimming was just a small part of my payback!"

He was pleased to see the account had earned considerable interest since he'd left Lin's service. 'Not the near half mil I had before, but it's enough.' He tapped a few keys to request a withdrawal and transfer for when he required it, then moved on to other sites of interest.

He accessed an email server and sent a request to a storage company in the area. He asked that the boxes he had there be delivered to Teller – Morrow within the week. He received an instant response and sent a reply of acknowledgment before deleting the email.

Keeping his promise not to download porn, Chuckie checked out several sites he had surfed while in Stockton in order to catch up on news and information. He pulled up a site called _'I __Can Haz Cheezburger'_ and enjoyed looking at the pictures and captions there.

He went onto his own Twitter account and spent several minutes touching base with his followers and those he followed. "Hi, I'm back on line at last! Did you miss me?" he tweeted. Soon he was tweeting back and forth with his friends and followers, and answering direct messages that had been dormant for several weeks.

He was so deeply engrossed in his internet wanderings that he didn't even notice the arrival of the SAMCRO women. He continued enjoying his time on line until his cell phone went off.

"Chucky here."

"Tig. I'm on my way over. Cat tell ya you're relocating?"

"Yes. I accept that."

Tig snorted. "You're in the minority, then. Be ready to go when I get there."

"I accept that, too," Chucky flipped his phone shut and logged out of the computer. 'Even though I won't be stayin' over, I imagine Miss Cat will allow me to use the computer from to time.' He scurried into the library to pack his meagre belongings.

Lyla pulled up in front of Cat's house, noting the presence of Jax's bike and the HHR in the driveway.

'Guess Jax is still down for the count; the Chevy must be Cat's rental.' She and Piper got out of her Prius and walked up to the front door.

Cat opened it before she could knock to admit them. "Hey! Glad you could make it!" her smile of welcome was warm and genuine.

She glanced down at Piper and added, "Hi, I'm Cat. I saw you at Gemma and Clay's, but didn't get to say much to you."

"I remember you," Piper replied. "You made the nanny take care of us when the adults were all upset about that lady being killed."

"Yes, I did. Her name is Neta, she takes care of baby Abel."

"He's still missing, isn't he?" Piper shuddered and drew closer to Lyla. "Mommy and Opie told us this morning."

Cat glanced at Lyla as her arm wrapped protectively around her son's shoulders. "We thought it'd be better to tell the kids this morning, instead of last night," she whispered.

Cat squatted down to the child's level. "Yes, darlin', he is. A very upset man took Abel away, but he'll be found and brought home soon. A lot of good people are still lookin' for him."

Piper scooted closer to his mother, his eyes wide with fear.

Cat had a feeling it wasn't just Abel's kidnapping that frightened the child. She looked directly into Piper's eyes and asked, "Do my bandages scare you, little man?"

Piper shook his head, though he clung to his mother's leg.

"They scare me, too. So it's OK if you're a little scared."

Piper started to relax. "You had a big owie. Mommy said so."

"Yeah, I had a big owie. It would've been even bigger if Mr. Tig hadn't made me wear my seat belt," Cat grinned. "Do you wear yours?"

Piper nodded. "Mommy won't start the car unless I do."

Cat glanced up at Lyla and grinned. "You're Mommy's smart. Do you know that some cars won't start until little boys buckle their seat belts? I'll bet your Mommy's car is that way!" Cat winked at Lyla, who smiled back.

"That's what I tell Piper, but he never believes me!"

"It's true, kiddo!" Cat replied. "Piper, do you like cartoons?"

He nodded solemnly.

"I've set up a DVD with Bugs Bunny and Road Runner cartoons in the television room. Do you like Bugs Bunny?"

Piper nodded again, but a smile of anticipation lit his face. "_You _like Bugs Bunny?"

"I love Bugs Bunny! He's a wascally wabbit!"

Piper glanced from Cat to Lyla. "May I, Mommy?"

"Yes, dear. You may."

Cat took him to the TV area, switched on the DVD player, and showed him how to work the remote controls. "I made some popcorn for you, here in this bag. There's also a cup of ice water here for you. If you want or need anything, just holler."

"Can I play with the cats?"

"If they come into the house. They're over at the coffeehouse right now getting spoiled rotten by the customers."

"OK. Thanks Miss Cat."

"You're welcome, Piper."

She left the child already engrossed in the antics of Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner to return to the living room. Lyla had moved to the sofa, and was sitting in one corner of it.

"You're good with kids. Do you have any?"

Cat shook her head. "Bill and I tried; never happened. The furbabies are my kids."

"You seem to know how to talk to them," Lyla replied.

"I spoiled my godchild when she was Piper's age. Said godchild is now a college graduate." Cat moved towards the kitchen. "Do y'all want tea or coffee?"

"Tea would be nice. I can make it if you want."

"Thanks. It's my turn to serve you, kitten. The kettle's been on low for the last five minutes, so the water should be nice and hot."

The doorbell rang as Cat started toward the kitchen. She changed course to answer the door and admitted Tara into the house.

"What's the porn princess doing here?" Tara hissed loud enough for Lyla to hear.

Lyla snarked at the same moment, "What is _she _doing here?"

"All of us are together so we can start workin' _with _each other!" Cat explained, stepping in front of the door to prevent a premature escape by either woman.

"That's one Hell of a tall order!" Lyla exclaimed. "Considering _her _attitude, it'll be nearly impossible!"

"My attitude?" Tara spat. "I'm not the one flaunting my skanky ass around the guys every second!"

"All right, both of you! Shut up and sit down!" Cat shouted. "I don't give a shit if it takes us all frackin' day and into the night; _no one_ is leavin' here until we work things out – all three of us!" She stared at both women, who glared back at her for a moment.

Tara finally nodded agreement and sat down in one of the recliners. Lyla flung herself into her corner of the couch again with a contemptuous snort.

"I was just about to fix refreshments. Tara, would you like coffee or tea?"

"Coffee, please. Black, two sugars."

"Lyla, I forgot to ask. Do you take cream and/or sugar in your tea?"

"Just Sweet and Low, please."

"Don't have that, but I have Equal. I think it's better than Sweet and Low myself."

"OK. That's fine. One spoonful. What kind of tea is it?"

"I have several. Raspberry, Blueberry, and Lemon flavored, Orange Pekoe, Earl Grey, Tetley, Lipton."

"Do you have Lemon Zinger?"

"One Lemon Zinger with a spoonful of Equal and one coffee, black with two sugars comin' up." Cat ventured into the kitchen to fix the drinks.

"Need any help?" Tara inquired.

"I've got it, thanks." Cat fixed the drinks, put them on a tray, and added a plate of sugar free cookies to it. Though it was a little awkward with the cast, she was able to keep the tray balanced and served the women.

"Hey, Chuckie! Do y'all want anything to drink?" she called down the hall.

"I'm fine, Miss Cat! Thanks!" he called back.

"I let Chuckie loose on the internet. Hope that doesn't come back to bite me," she explained with a wry grin, settling on the other side of the sofa from Lyla.

"I wanna say thanks for comin' out, and apologize to you both for not tellin' ya the other was comin'," she added. "I was afraid if y'all knew, neither of y'all would show."

"You're probably right," Lyla replied.

"Sneaky, but understandable," Tara added.

"I'm not sayin' we hafta be – what is it the kids say these days?"

"BFF's. Best Friend Forever." Lyla supplied.

"Yeah, that," Cat nodded her appreciation. "It's just that our guys really need us to be in harmony with each other. There's already enough shit flyin' around without them havin' to worry about us bein' at each other's throats."

'True. But that doesn't mean I have to lie down and roll over for that physician!' Lyla stared from Cat to Tara. "_I_ didn't start it, she did!"

Before Tara could utter a defense, Cat interjected, "I don't give a flyin' fuck at a rollin' doughnut who said what to whom and when they said it. We have to end it _now _and not by buryin' the hatchet in each other's backs!"

The women glared at each other. The silence was tense enough to be cut with a paper knife. 'This ain't workin', dammit! Somethin's gotta give!' Cat took a deep breath and turned to face Lyla.

"By the way, Lyla, I'm sorry for snappin' at y'all yesterday at the clubhouse. That wasn't nice of me and my comments were uncalled for."

Lyla stared at Cat in surprise. 'I didn't expect an apology from her at all! Considering how Opie said I overstepped yesterday, I'm surprised she'd even offer!'

A slow smile of acceptance spread over her face. She glanced at Tara, who appeared equally as surprised. "You were just out of the hospital and hurting a lot, Cat. I guess I wasn't exactly nice to you, either," Lyla replied softly. "I'm sorry for behaving like I did, and for making the guys uncomfortable last night, too."

Lyla turned her attention back to Tara, "I'm sorry for making that snarky remark to you that first time at your house when I came over to pick up Opie's kids."

Tara felt shock and surprise at the sincerity of the apology from the blond. "I guess I wasn't the most pleasant to you that night. It definitely wasn't cool for me to make that crack at your expense at Gemma's in front of the kids, either."

"Well, considering how Ima had treated you at the wrap party, I can understand your feelings," Lyla replied, offering a tentative smile to Jax's woman.

Tara grinned back. "True. Ima and her friends really called me out that night."

"We have no reason to be at odds with each other," Cat stated. "We're happy with our men and they're gonna be relyin' on us to maintain a restful, safe place for them to retreat to. If we're runnin' to them with complaints about each other, they can't relax. This is the best way we can help them."

Lyla nodded enthusiastically. "I agree."

"Same here. Provided Jax ever gets sober enough to need me. I notice the bike is still parked on the street."

"I have the keys in a drawer, Tara. Don't let me forgot to give them to you. If Jax stays drunk, we'll have to get the bike over to the house somehow. I'll ask Tig about that."

The three women fell silent for a bit, sipping at their drinks. Then Lyla spoke up to ask about Gemma. "Opie said that Tig's going to be going out of town to keep her safe. How are you handling that idea, Cat?"

She shrugged. "It's necessary. Clay relies on Tig. I knew that goin' into this thing. It's somethin' I accept. Clay wouldn't ask Tig to leave if I were in really bad shape."

"It's still hard for me to accept that the club comes first with Jax. Gemma once told me that if you love the man, you learn to love the club. Sometimes that's difficult." Tara added.

"Are both of you on full disclosure with your men?" Cat asked.

Tara nodded, while Lyla looked confused by the question.

"Full disclosure, Lyla, means that your man tells you everything he's doin' with the club. He knows y'all won't go tell the cops or anyone else. Sometimes, that can be a heavy burden," Cat explained. "Personally, I think there are varyin' degrees of it."

"Why is that?" Lyla asked.

"Because I think Tig still picks and chooses what he tells me, despite all the stuff I've already accepted."

"Same here," Tara agreed.

"When we first hooked up, I wasn't willing to know _anything_ unless Tig chose to tell me. I wanted it that way because I knew the guys from the business and didn't want to think about - much less acknowledge - their dark side. As things progressed and the trust built between us, Tig became more willing to confide in me."

"It was the same for me," Tara added. "Then Gemma told me I needed to demand full disclosure. It's been an eye - opening experience."

"I know that Donna chose not to know anything about the club. Ope says she shunned it, and kept him from returning to it when he first got out of prison. Even when he went back, she stayed as far from it as she could. Did either of you talk with her much?" Lyla inquired.

"I saw her on occasion at the coffeehouse," Cat replied. "She was nice enough, even after she learned that Tig and I had hooked up. We were never close."

"I saw Donna a few times, but we never spoke much, either," Tara stated. "When Cat and Tig hooked up, we joked about setting up an 'old ladies' support group. Sometimes I feel like I need that more than ever."

"I don't think it's a joke anymore, Tara," Cat observed. "The only one of us with any real experience at this is Gemma, and she's not available to help us. It's not like there's one of those '_Old Ladies for Dummies_' books to guide us!"

"No shit!" Lyla laughed. "Though in my case, I'm not an old lady yet! I love Ope, but sometimes the club scares me. I wonder what being an old lady will be like, if just being his woman is this adventurous!"

"The club scares me sometimes, too," Tara admitted.

"That makes three of us," Cat agreed. "And Tara's seen some of the harsher results of what the guys get into by patchin' 'em up!" She closed her eyes as she thought, 'Course, none of you have ever learned that your man killed a brother's wife! Hope y'all never do!'

Tara gazed intently at Cat, wondering if the injured woman knew what she knew. 'Jax has had his suspicions about Tig being involved in Donna's death, but never said he did it. Do you know more than you're saying about that, Cat? Do _we_ have to have secrets from each other for the good of the club?'

Oblivious to either of the other women's thoughts, Lyla asked, "If I need to ask one of you a question in the future, there won't be any judgments and no ratting each other out?"

"I'd say that what happens with us girls, stays with us girls," Cat offered. "As far as I'm concerned, we go forward with a clean slate, on equal footin'. No one holds a higher spot than the other just because of our man's status in the club. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Tara acknowledged.

"OK!" Lyla confirmed.

"So let's agree to be available to each other 24/7. I don't have all the answers, but I've got two pretty good ears. Speakin' of which, Tara, are _you_ doin' all right?"

Lyla's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. "Oh, gosh! You were there when Sack got killed and Abel taken! I forgot!"

Tara smiled weakly. "I'm trying to handle it. It's difficult. Jax passed out last night and has been distant since he found out Hayes took Abel. He barely did much when he and the guys found me bound and gagged in the nursery."

"I noticed he seemed to cling to the bottle last night," Cat replied dryly.

"He spent the night passed out on the couch at my dad's house. You know that CPD closed his house?"

The two women nodded.

"This morning, before I left for work, all Jax would do was sit on the couch and smoke and drink from a bottle of whiskey I didn't know was in the house. Guess it was one of my father's."

"Men always know how to find booze. I think their noses are attuned to it," Cat replied dryly.

"I think you're right," Tara grinned sadly. "I also think he blames me for Abel's kidnapping."

"Has he said that?" Lyla asked.

"Not in so many words. Just his behavior."

Pushing aside her own feelings of guilt, Cat inquired softly, "Have you tried to reach out to him, Tara? Sometimes when a person is hurtin', they're afraid to reach out because they fear they'll be rejected."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Tara admitted softly. "I couldn't bear to have him shrug me away or lash out at me."

"You've got a point there," Lyla offered. "Jax has a temper. He turned real vicious on LuAnn when she called him out after Georgie Caruso beat on me a few weeks ago. It happened right after the guys tried to intimidate him. LuAnn didn't call him out in public, except in front of me and Chibs."

"Could that be what has you scared, Tara? You've known Jax longer than either of us."

Tara considered the question before replying. "I've seen his temper, too. I don't know for sure. I think I'm more afraid of actually hearing him blame me. I don't want that confirmation."

"But from what you told us all last night, you had no choice!" Lyla exclaimed.

"That might not matter to Jax," Tara replied miserably. "No matter what _anyone_ says, Jax is going to feel the way he wants to feel about it, that's how he is."

Cat nodded sympathetically. 'That's how I feel about that damn Amber Alert bein' canceled. I wonder, Doc, do you blame me for that?'

Tig pulled up to the CPD impound lot, where Officer Eglee was posted on duty. "Hey, doll. What'd you do to get stuck out here?"

"Just taking my turn. We all do a little of everything," she replied. "What can I do for you, Tig?"

"I'm here to leave the keys and title for Cat's PT. The adjuster's due out to haul it off today. I'm supposed to leave the stuff in the front of the car."

Eglee opened the gate and showed him on the map the area where the car was parked. "It's pretty bad, Tig. You sure you want to see it?"

Tig glanced at the blond officer. "Yeah. If Chibs can handle it, so can I."

"OK. Let me know if you need anything," she returned to the small office while Tig walked to the remains of what had once been the _MF6. _

As he approached the vehicle, he was surprised to see that from the back the car looked whole and unblemished. Once he got closer, the severity of the impact was evident.

A shudder ran up Tig's spine as he remembered how the wreck had occurred just a few nights ago. 'Another couple of seconds earlier and the damn driver's door would've been squashed and Cat with it!'

His hands curled into fists as he looked over the totaled vehicle. 'I hadn't felt so helpless since I laid down the FXR! There's no way Cat could see this and not have the shit scared outta her; it damn near scares me!'

His hand went to the bridge of his nose while he looked into the driver's side of the vehicle. The roof on that side of the car had been cut away to enable the rescue personnel to extricate Cat.

His eyes swept the cockpit, recalling how still she had been after the box truck had pushed it into the pole. Spots of dried blood dotted the upholstery, steering wheel, and the safety harness.

'Chibs did a good job of clearing everything out. Won't hurt to check again, just to be sure,' he assured himself. He searched the entire car, but none of their personal belongings were left.

'Chibs forgot the signs,' he thought, removing the magnetic signs from each side of the car. The _Charming Pawse _signs had been scratched from the impact, but might still be usable. 'Maybe I can repair 'em for her. Worth a try.'

He withdrew the envelope containing the signed title and Cat's ignition key from his inner cut pocket, removed his key from his ring and slipped his key inside. He sealed and tossed the envelope on the floorboard as Cat had instructed.

He straightened up and gazed at the battered PT, not seeing the crumpled body, but the way it had been the first time he'd driven it, the first day he'd spent in Cat's company.

He recalled the fishing trips, the time he'd decided to teach her to shoot a gun, how the PT had served as a food wagon the day of the first trip SAMCRO had made up north for the Hayes', and their trip to the airport when her mother died.

He wasn't sentimental by nature, but he felt a sense of loss over the PT's demise. 'We had a lot of good times in that thing. Always prefer ridin', but this car grew on me. It was a damn good car.' He patted it affectionately on what was left of the roof before turning away and walking towards the gate.

As he moved away from the battered PT, his eyes caught a glimpse of a purple, 1960's era Mopar vehicle. He changed direction to examine it.

'Huh. Doesn't look _too_ bad. A little body work, new paint job would take care of the cosmetics. Wonder what the power plant looks like?' He slid his hand under the faded hood and unlatched it, holding it open with one hand.

A soundless whistle escaped his lips. 'Whew! That engine is a mess! Could be rebuilt, but will take time!'

He closed the hood and headed back to the gate. "Hey, doll, know anything about that Charger?"

Eglee consulted a computer inventory program. "It came in from a storage unit surrender. Apparently the owner died, left it in there to rot. No one made the payments after he died and it came here. If no one pays the fees on it, some junkyard will buy it for scrap."

"How much?"

Eglee tapped a few keys, then quoted a price to him.

'Doable. I've got that and more saved back.' He wrote the price on a sheet of paper and stashed it in his back pocket. "Who do I talk to about payin'?"

"City treasurer. What are you going to do with that hunk of junk?"

"Personal project, doll," he replied, waving off – handedly as he walked away from the gate towards his bike.

Eglee shook her head. 'Men!'

Tig mounted the Dyna and headed back to Teller – Morrow, his mind centered on all the things on his agenda before he could return home for the day.

Lyla glanced from Tara to Cat, her brow furrowed. "I've got a question to ask. How do you prove yourself to the club?"

"How do you mean, how do you prove yourself to the club?" Tara inquired.

"Ope and I were talking last night, he said that you two had already proved yourselves loyal to the club, and that's why you're recognized as old ladies. He said I haven't proved myself yet, and that's one of the reasons he hasn't claimed me as his old lady."

"I don't know what he means about proving my loyalty to the club," Cat replied. "I gave them a small percentage in the coffeehouse, as a way for them to have legitimate income that the Feds wouldn't be able to question."

"You set up that medical care account," Lyla pointed out.

Cat grinned wickedly. "Honey, that was out of pure selfishness!"

"You also took responsibility for Otto during LuAnn's funeral, Cat. That told the guys a lot," Tara stated.

'Not as much as stayin' with Alex after he confessed twice to killin' Donna by mistake,' Cat thought wryly.

"And you've given medical care to the guys off the record," Lyla added, turning her attention to Tara. "I don't have any skills or talents like that."

"But you can be supportive of Opie," Tara replied earnestly. "You can offer to listen to him, and just let him know that he can talk to you about anything; that you're not going to go running off somewhere with the information."

"It can't be that easy, just being supportive of your man!" Lyla exclaimed.

"Sometimes it is," Cat replied. "Sometimes after something has gone tits up for Tig, all he wants to do is come home to a safe, quiet house, a cold beer, and a hot meal. Once he feels content, he's able to talk and knows I won't be judgmental. It means a lot to him."

"I agree," Tara added.

Lyla nodded, giving careful consideration to both women's input. 'Manning the sexcams didn't count after LuAnn was killed because Ope and I weren't together yet. How can I prove my loyalty to the club?' She sighed in defeat. "I may never be his old lady!"

"Lyla, Opie is with _you;_ he's claimed you as his, whether that makes you an old lady or not!" Cat gently rebuked the girl. "Don't get hung up on labels. It doesn't matter whether you're a wife, the woman, the girlfriend, or the old lady. The important thing is that Opie and you are together."

Tara nodded agreement. "When Jax and I started up again, Gemma was against it. When she found that I wasn't easily bullied, and that I wasn't going to hurt Jax again, she helped me with the lifestyle."

"Yeah, when Tig and I disagreed about Kip," Cat felt her throat thicken at the mention of the fallen Prospect, but she forced herself to continue. "Gemma helped me through that. We talked about his alpha male attitude and that it was okay for me to be myself, even though it would make life interesting."

"Not to change the subject, but aren't you worried about Tig screwing around while he's away, Cat?" Lyla asked.

"I told Jax that cheating was a deal breaker for me. If he ever has sex with another woman, it'll kill me," Tara interjected.

"That's not a realistic expectation, Tara. Our men live a rough life, and when they're on the road, they're gonna be lookin' for a distraction. Anything female that looks good to the eye is gonna provide that for 'em. It's not cheatin' to them, it's just physical release."

Tara's eyes widened in surprise. "You aren't telling me you're OK with Tig having road sex?"

Cat shrugged. "I'm aware of Tig's proclivities, and fully expect he'll tap some skirt while he's on the road. I'm sure he dipped his wick in Nevada. We have an agreement that whatever happens on the road, stays on the road. As long as it doesn't follow him back to Charming, I can live with it."

Tara shook her head. "I don't have that strength, Cat. I can't be that generous."

"I didn't think it would be possible for me, either. My husband, Bill, was a stable guy; never strayed. Before we married, I was with a few men who subscribed to the 'Yul Brynner - King and I' mentality about sex," Cat replied.

Both girls looked quizzically at her.

"Have either of y'all seen the musical '_The King __and I_?"

The women shook their heads. Cat sighed, suddenly feeling much older than the two women. "Brynner played the King of Siam in the movie and on Broadway. The King's philosophy was that 'Man is like a honey bee, gathering pollen wherever he can. Woman is like a flower, with pollen for just one man. A honey bee must be free to go to from flower to flower, but woman must not _ever_ fly from bee to bee to bee'."

Tara and Lyla exchanged glances again. "That sounds like them!" Tara admitted.

"If I didn't accept that idea of men and sex, I'd drive myself nerts every time Tig went on a road trip, and make both of us miserable. When he's on the road, it's a way to let off steam. I believe that when he's with me, it means somethin'."

"Do you think he'll ever tap anything local?" Lyla asked, then winced, recalling the debacle with KD.

"I think that little episode with KD reminded him y'all don't shit where ya eat," Cat replied. "If it didn't, then I'll deal with her if and when the time comes. Then I'll consider usin' the rusty bottle cap where it might do the most good!"

"Wouldn't that hurt you in the wrong run?" Tara snickered.

"Not if I let him get a tetanus shot," Cat snorted. "Dunno why men have a problem with women's sexuality! It is the 21st century! Not that I'm lookin' for anythin' else, mind you."

"Opie has a real problem with me being a porn actress," Lyla supplied. "Caracara's destroyed, and I've not filmed anything for awhile, but the fact that my films are 'out there' messes with him."

"They're true alpha males," Cat noted. "They don't like to share their women with anyone."

"Gemma said they're the type that want to own their pussy," Tara added ruefully. "You'd think that we would have the right to have a say about how they use _their_ equipment, but it doesn't seem to work that way."

"Nope, it sure doesn't," Cat grinned. "They become total cavemen where we're concerned."

"Some more so than others," Tara confirmed with a small smile.

"Am I being talked about behind my back?" Tig growled as he strode through the front door. He'd parked the flatbed in front of Jax's bike on the street, relieved to find that neither CPD nor an ambulance run had been made to the house.

"Not when your front is presented to us!" Cat retorted tartly. "Kinda makes it hard for us to talk about ya behind yer back!"

"Good! Don't need my ears burning!" He grinned. "Chuckie still at the coffeehouse?"

"Last I saw of him, he was scurryin' to the office to play on the 'puter. Why?"

He answered her question with an intent stare.

"Oh, _that_."

"Yeah, _that_. Figured might as well get him moved to the clubhouse now, let him get settled in. Do you have Jax's key?"

She stood up and walked to the drawer where Jax's keys were stored. "You takin' it to the garage?"

"Nope. Gonna drop it by Jax's house, unless he's sobered up enough to ride?" He directed his gaze inquiringly at Tara.

She shook her head. "No, all this morning he just sat on the couch drinking and chain smoking."

"Sorry, sweetheart. He'll eventually come out of his funk."

"I hope so."

Cat handed the keys over to Tig. He pocketed them and disappeared down the hall.

Both women gave Cat sympathetic grins. She winked and grinned at them. "See what I mean? Caveman mentality."

Tig grinned at Cat's verbal pot shot. 'Damn straight, baby!' Chuckie wasn't in the office and the computer was shut down.

He found Chuckie sitting on the edge of his bed, beating his fingers together in agitation. Tig had called the cellphone he'd given Chuckie to alert him to be ready to leave on his arrival. It hadn't taken him long to get his clothes packed in the footlocker.

"Everything's ready to go, Tig," Chuckie stated, getting up and pointing at the footlocker.

"A'right," Tig hefted the footlocker, surprised that it didn't feel as heavy as it looked. 'I know Cat financed some clothes and shit for him. Didn't think it'd be so light.'

They walked out of the library and down the hall. Cat was standing next to the front door, waiting to open it for Tig.

"Thanks, baby. Be right back. Chuckie, wait here for a bit." Tig walked out the door and on down to the truck. 'I'll load Jax's bike, then secure the footlocker. Give Chuckie a little time to talk to Cat.'

Cat shut the door behind Tig. "If I had my druthers, you wouldn't be relocatin'."

"Now, Miss Cat!" Chuckie admonished. "I accept it, and wish you would, too. I'm gonna be OK."

"I know," she sighed defeatedly. "For some reason, I'm feelin' a little of that 'empty nest syndrome' comin' on."

Chuckie grinned and nodded. "I accept that. Thank you for caring, Miss Cat."

She surprised Chuckie further by stepping forward and embracing him, nearly squeezing the stuffing out of him. "It's not like y'all are leavin' for good. I'll be seein' ya at work tomorrow. Y'all might run a little late, but I think your boss will accept that."

Chuckie grinned with delight from her gesture of affection. "I don't doubt it."

"Don't doubt what?" Tig asked, walking through the front door in a rush. He'd witnessed the embrace Cat had given Chuckie and it had stirred his protective instincts. 'I really don't like seein' her gettin' friendly hugs from other men!'

"That my boss will be OK if I'm a little late to work tomorrow," Chuckie explained.

"Didn't I tell you she treats her people well?" Tig smirked.

"And I accept that," Chuckie replied.

"Go wait for me at the truck," Tig growled.

"I accept that, too. Bye, ladies."

Tara and Lyla grinned and waved at him as he departed through the front door.

"I'll be back in an hour, unless you chicks need more time?"

Cat smiled sweetly. "Gee, love! That's the nicest compliment I've been paid today – bein' referred to as a chick! An hour should be OK, though."

"It _was_ meant as a compliment, baby."

"Why are you askin' if we need more time? Got big plans goin' on?"

"Not that I don't appreciate the idea of comin' home to a houseful of lovely ladies," Tig grinned suggestively. "This might be my last night home, thought you might want me all to yourself!"

"The thought _had_ crossed my mind," she replied with a roguish grin of her own.

'Wish the girls weren't here at the moment, I'd like to give her something to make her _really_ look forward to my return!' He settled for gently rubbing the back of his knuckles against her cheek. "I'll see ya in about an hour, baby." He winked at Tara and Lyla then headed out the door to the waiting tow truck.

As soon as the tow truck pulled away from the house, Lyla and Tara glanced at each other and then at Cat.

"Hmm. His last night with you for awhile. Do you have anything special planned?" Lyla drawled.

"Just stay home, reheat a little chili, see what happens from there," Cat replied.

The young women looked at at each other, arched their eyebrows knowingly and tsk -tsked at Cat.

"Oh, no, no, no! I can see the stay at home part," Lyla replied.

"But this night has to be more special than reheated leftovers!" Tara added.

"And you should look special, too!" Lyla continued.

"Definitely," Tara grinned. "I think between the two of us, we ought to be able to make a nice dinner for Tig and make Cat look more presentable."

"You handle the dinner, I'll handle Cat," Lyla replied.

"Hey, now! Wait a cotton – pickin' minute here! Don't I get a say in this?" Cat protested.

"No!" The two chorused, wide grins on their faces.

"Mutiny!" Cat protested again, though she smiled good – naturedly. "What happened to us supportin' each other?"

"We _are. _We'rehelping you!" Lyla replied, pulling Cat down the hall to the master bedroom and bath, Tara following behind them.

Lyla flipped on the overhead light to the bathroom and whistled at the sight of the walk in shower and separate whirlpool bath. "Gorgeous! Wish we had one of those tubs at Opie's house!"

"Be sure she keeps her arm and eye from getting wet!" Tara advised, eyeing the shower with trepidation.

Cat grinned ruefully. "I prefer showers, but sometimes, that whirlpool bath comes in handy."

"Then this had better be one of those times," Tara replied, stepping out of the bathroom. "I'll be back with something to wrap your arm in to keep it dry."

Lyla started water running in the tub then peeked in the linen closet for any kind of bath oil or bubble bath. Her eyes caught on a still full bottle of white chocolate raspberry bubble bath.

Cat flinched at the sight of the bottle; it had been a present from Bill, one of the last he'd given her. 'Dunno what the Hell I'm savin' it for! Might as well use it!'

Oblivious to Cat's discomfort, Lyla pouted a capful of liquid under the stream of water. The force of the stream made white foam form in the tub.

"If we're goin' that route, might as well use the soap that came with it," Cat observed, taking down the unopened bottle of liquid soap.

"Now you're talking!" Lyla nodded approvingly.

"Smells good in here, like dessert," Tara added, returning with a box of plastic wrap. "Use this to cover the cast, it'll make a waterproof barrier. Let me know when her hair is done, and I'll redo the bandage over her eye. I wanted to take a look at it, anyway."

'Good Lord! This bein' waited on for a simple bath is a little embarassin'!'

Cat's expression must have mirrored her thoughts, as Lyla smiled sympathetically. "I know you can bathe without my help, and will leave you to it. I'll be right outside, and can help you wash your hair. That cast will make it an awkward endeavor for you." Lyla closed the door behind her but left it open just a bit in case Cat needed help getting into the tub.

"Thanks, kitten," Cat replied with an inward sigh of relief. She adjusted the temperature so the water ran hot, undressed, and slid gratefully into the warm, scented water.

Her body still ached from her injuries. The warmth from the water helped ease the pain from her body and she relaxed for a few minutes. 'I could lay here all night, but don't think Alex would like to come home to a wrinkled prune.'

She lathered with the scented soap, then rinsed with the fragrant water a couple of times.

While Cat bathed, Lyla scouted through the closet, looking for an outfit befitting the occasion. She wrinkled her nose at the selection of black cords, jeans, and velvet pants, along with the long sleeved tops of different fabrics and styles. Some of the tops were plain, others had cat – themed designs on them, including several long sleeved 'Charming_ Pawse'_ logo shirts.

'Nothing really sexy in this wardrobe, but Tig doesn't seem to be concerned by her choice of clothing,' she mused.

She examined a white midi skirt, long sleeved tunic and vest encased in plastic. 'She must've worn this for something special recently, so Tig's probably seen her in this.'

Her hands closed around a midi length black velvet skirt and a black satin shirt. 'This has possibilities, maybe she'll be up to wearing her knee length suede boots with it.'

While Lyla was examining Cat's wardrobe, Tara looked through the kitchen refrigerator/freezer for a menu for the evening. 'Tig seems like a meat and potatoes man, nothing fancy; no need to go to extremes.'

Tara found two packages of steaks in the freezer, along with several packages of vegetables. 'The macaroni and shredded cheese from last night will make a great casserole with the veggies,' she thought, pulling the ingredients from the freezer.

She put the steaks in the microwave to defrost while she mixed the broccoli, carrots, cauliflower, macaroni, and the cheese in a large dish before slipping it in the oven to bake. 'Half an hour should do it,' she thought with satisfaction. 'Still plenty of beer in the fridge, so that's taken care of!'

She grinned with delight to find an electric grill sitting on the counter. 'Perfect! This will take care of the steaks! With her anemia, I imagine Cat likes her steaks rare, but better check to be sure. Might be about time to check her eye, anyway.'

As Tara assembled the evening meal for the couple, Lyla's eyes caught an unusual splotch of color in Cat's wardrobe. She withdrew a long flowing caftan colored in various hues. 'It's like a rainbow!' she sighed, fingering the silky material. 'She'll look gorgeous in this!' She lay the caftan on the bed and looked up with concern when she heard water running down the tub's drain. "Everything OK, Cat?"

"Yeah, just runnin' some clear water so I can rinse the soap off. About ready to get the hair washed, anyway!"

"On my way!"

"How's she doing?" Tara inquired.

"Getting ready to wash her hair. Found the perfect outfit for tonight," Lyla gestured at the caftan.

"Like Tig will notice!" Tara laughed. "He'll probably have it off her in record time!"

"I heard that! He's not_ that_ bad!" Cat admonished them.

"No, he's worse, from what I've heard!" Lyla giggled as she entered the bathroom. She stopped short, her mouth forming an 'O' of sympathy at the sight of the bruises and cuts.

"Oh my God! You must really be in pain!"

"It's not real comfortable, that's for sure," Cat smiled dryly.

Tara eyed the still – full bottle of pain pills sitting on the counter. "Why aren't you taking the meds we sent home with you?"

"I don't need 'em that bad. They knock me out pretty quick but don't last long," she explained, pointing at her gastric bypass scar. "I don't wanna spend all my time in a fog."

"That may be," Tara replied with a scowl. "But you shouldn't deny yourself the relief."

"I'll have plenty of time for that when Tig heads out," Cat stated firmly.

"I'm sorry, Lady Cat. I didn't mean to blurt -"

Cat held up a hand, cutting off Lyla's apology. "It's OK, kitten. Y'all are so used to seein' my arm and face that y'all don't remember the other injuries, especially since they're hidden by my clothes."

Lyla handed over a clean hand towel that she'd folded into a large square. "Here, hold that over your eye bandage while I wash your hair. Will it hurt you to tilt your head back so the water runs into the tub instead of your face?"

"Not enough to complain about, Lyla," Cat assured her. She accepted the towel, pressing it gingerly against her bandage, then tilted her head back.

"Before you two get started, how do you and Tig like your steaks cooked?" Tara inquired.

"Rare. There's an electric grill on the counter. I wish you wouldn't go to all the trouble," Cat protested.

"I saw it. And it's not a problem. Casserole is already baking, it won't take long to grill the steaks, and you can keep 'em warm in the oven until Tig gets back." Tara assured her. "Give me a holler when you're done with her hair."

"OK," Lyla replied, cupping one hand and pouring shampoo into her hand with the other. "Smells good. I like this fruit and tea therapy blend."

"Works just as well as the expensive stuff in my opinion."

"Mine too. I like the melon and tea myself." Lyla rubbed her hands together to form a lather, then gently massaged the shampoo into Cat's scalp.

"That feels good. Just watch out for a bump up there. It's been buggin' me since the wreck," Cat advised her with a contented sigh.

"I'll be careful. I saw it a second ago. Nasty one, too. I'm glad the guys got Weston. Wish they'd gotten Zobelle for what he pulled, too."

"Yeah, wish that bastard hadn't gotten away, but finding Abel was more important. Something tells me that rat will be back."

"Do you think Georgie might return, too, now that Caracara's been destroyed?" Lyla asked.

"It's hard to tell, kitten," Cat sighed. "He strikes me as the opportunistic type. Having Caracara out of the picture is just his type of opportunity. If he does, you can count on the guys holding him accountable for LuAnn's murder."

"I think he did it, too. Some of the girls think it was Zobelle, though."

"Too easy to put the blame on LOAN," Cat observed. "Rule by intimidation is more along their line. The dead can't be intimidated."

Lyla mulled that over while she rinsed Cat's hair. "You might be right. Never thought of it that way," she lathered Cat's hair a second time. "That means it's likely Georgie killed LuAnn."

"I believe so. Either way, we're lucky to have 'em both outta town. You've got nothin' to worry about, Lyla. Ope will keep Georgie away from ya if he does show his face around here again."

"I hope so."

"I know so, just from watchin' him around you." Cat assured her.

Lyla wordlessly rinsed Cat's hair a second time, then gently blotted the excess water from it. She placed a clean, dry bath towel on the edge of the tub. "Can you manage your way out of here on your own?"

"Sure darlin'. Thanks."

"I laid out something for you to wear tonight. You can pick out something else if you want. It looks comfy, though, and Tig might like it."

Cat nodded. "I'll check it out. Thanks for the help, kitten."

"My pleasure, Cat."

Once assured that Cat had gotten out of the tub without incident, Lyla walked into the kitchen to assist Tara.

"Cat doing OK?"

Lyla nodded. "She's out of the tub and dressing. I'll watch the food if you want to go look at her eye."

"Thanks. The casserole's nearly done, so just turn the heat down to warm. The meat's about at that point, too, and can go in the oven in one minute."

Lyla gave the doctor the thumbs up. "Got it covered."

Cat toweled herself dry, then rubbed the white chocolate and berry scented lotion all over, working it into her skin. She then walked into the bedroom, spying the colorful caftan waiting for her.

'Good choice. No titsling required. I like that!' She slipped into the caftan and pulled bootie slippers onto her feet.

A discreet tap on the door alerted her to Tara's presence. "C'mon in, I'm decent! Though no reason to observe propriety now!"

Tara grinned good naturedly. "Occupational hazard. I always knock before entering a lady's room, especially if she might still be undressed." Her eyes fell on the caftan. "That looks comfy. Those colors work well on you."

"Thanks. Lyla has good taste. I feel loads better. Amazing what a bath can do for a woman."

"Let me get the bandages and tape and I'll be right back." Tara replied.

"Want me to sit on the throne so you can work with the bathroom light?"

Tara shook her head. "This is fine. Just sit tight."

"No argument from me. The stuff should be in the linen closet."

Tara gathered the supplies she needed and returned to the bedroom. Cat was sitting on the foot of the bed waiting for her.

Tara examined the work Tig had done and nodded approvingly. "He did a good job. What'd he say about it when he saw it unbandaged?"

Cat grinned. "He said it looked like an eye to him, but it didn't look bad."

Tara gently removed the bandage and tape, then ran an appraising eye over the injury. "He's right. It doesn't look bad. No infection. The tears might be keeping it clean, and that's good. Try not to get too weepy when Tig leaves."

"I won't. At least, not in front of Tig. He feels bad enough about leavin' as it is. I'm not gonna upset him by givin' in to unnecessary girlish displays of emotion."

Tara placed a clean gauze pad over Cat's eye. "Would you hold that for me?"

Cat complied with the doctor's request, watching Tara's face closely for any sign of condemnation or anger. 'Not that I wouldn't blame Tara for bein' mad at me for the Alert gettin' canceled,' she thought grimly.

Tara's outward demeanor towards her hostess was no different in private than it'd been in front of Lyla. She went about the business of replacing Cat's eye bandage in a friendly, caring manner.

"All done! I imagine you'll be happy to see the last of all these bandages!"

"You got that right, sister!" Cat replied wearily. "I'd love to be rid of some emotional baggage, too!" She winced, realizing she'd just opened a can of worms she'd wanted to keep closed.

Tara looked the older woman over with a professionally critical eye. Cat's weariness was evident in her voice and her bearing. Tara could also sense the guilt and sadness she'd tried to hide from both women. 'She's got more than Prospect's death on her mind!'

Tara sat down on the bed next to Cat, gazing in concern at her. "You're wondering when I'm going to let you have it about the Amber Alert, aren't you?"

Cat sighed wearily. "Yeah. I hoped you wouldn't pounce on me in front of Lyla. Let's face it, I fucked up - big time."

"That's how I feel about Abel being taken," Tara replied softly. "I tiptoed around Jax all morning, afraid he'd blow up at me. You feel as responsible for the Alert as I do for Abel being taken. No matter what everyone says, the weight of responsibility is hard to carry, isn't it?"

Cat grinned wryly. "Amen, sister. I know it's not my fault, but I'm a great Monday mornin' quarterback!"

"Even though I don't blame you, Cat, you've got to believe that for yourself. I wish you'd give yourself a break and quit feeling guilty."

"Physician, heal thyself!"

"You're right. I should. I wish we could give each other carte blanche to not feel guilty, but we can't."

Cat sighed in resignation. "Y'know, thinkin' back on all that sage advice and assurances I gave ya earlier, surprised y'all didn't haul off and slug me!"

Tara nodded and smiled ruefully. "I could give you the same assurances you gave me earlier, and you'd appreciate it, but you have to be willing to accept them for yourself. Same with me."

"Guess we'll both have to come to terms with our own sense of responsibility, won't we?"

"In our own good time, Cat," Tara assured her. "You really need to rest, that'll help."

"I'll try to get some before Tig gets back," Cat promised.

"I _know_ you will. Wait here." Tara disappeared

into the bathroom, returning with a pill and a glass of water. She held them both out to Cat.

"What's that? Not one of the pain pills!"

"Nope. It's the anti – anxiety pill. Take it. You

won't be in a fog later. It'll help you relax and rest."

Cat glared at the pill and water glass, but Tara glared back, silently commanding Cat to obey her. Cat sighed and accepted the medication, putting the small pill in her mouth then sipping the water.

"Open your mouth," Tara demanded. "I want to make sure you swallowed it."

Cat grinned and opened her mouth, showing that the pill was gone, then opened her hands to show that she hadn't palmed it. "Happy?"

"Yes. Was that so hard to do?"

"Guess not," Cat stood up and walked out to the kitchen. Tara followed close behind her. They entered the dining area to find that Lyla had set the table and placed the steaks in the warm oven.

"Everything's all ready to serve when Tig gets back," she explained. "I took the liberty of cleaning up our dishes and loading them in the dishwasher for you. All you two have to do now is enjoy the evening."

Cat embraced the younger girl, much to Lyla's surprise and delight. Then she repeated the gesture to Tara. "Thanks, gals. I haven't been this pampered in a long time."

"Like she said, you two enjoy your evening. We'll spread the word for people to leave you two alone," Tara stated, returning the embrace.

"I put the DVD away, Piper fell asleep," Lyla offered, disappearing into the television area to wake her dozing child. He whimpered a little, then stood up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Are we goan to Opie's now?"

"Yes, honey. Say goodbye to Lady Cat."

Piper walked over to her and extended his hand. Cat took it, and Piper squeezed it warmly. "Thank you for the cartoons and the snack, Lady Cat. I'll see you sometime soon."

"You're quite welcome, Piper. You and your Mommy are welcome back anytime," she replied sincerely.

The women departed from the house to their cars, leaving Cat to await Alex's return.

"Appreciate you being cool about relocating again, man," Tig murmured as the tow truck pulled away from his house.

"I accept it, but Miss Cat isn't real happy about it."

"Tough. This is one time that she's gonna hafta accept my decision," he growled authoritatively.

"She understands the reason behind it, she just doesn't like it. Don't be mad at her."

"I'm _not _mad, just irritated. She's independent as all get out, stubborn, opinionated, willful -"

"And you're with her for all those reasons. You'd be bored with a 'yes' woman." Chuckie grinned.

Tig grinned right back. "You got that right man! She really makes me crazy sometimes, though."

"I accept that. Otto used to say the same thing about LuAnn."

"You two were pretty tight in prison," Tig observed.

"My 'problem' was a source of amusement for him. The other inmates weren't as tolerant. They used to beat on me something fierce. He and friends of the Sons looked out for me. I appreciate that you stood up for me with Lin and Clay."

Tig glanced at the man for a moment, then returned his attention to driving. They had almost reached Jax's street. "You're a little nuts, but I think you've got potential. Otherwise, I'd have let Lin kill ya."

"I accept that. Want help unloading the bike?"

Tig shook his head. "Mind if we make a stop on the way back to the garage? Got something to pick up."

"I accept that."

Tig quickly unloaded Jax's bike from the flatbed and walked it onto the driveway, parking it to one side to allow for Tara's Olds. The yellow police tape had been removed from the yard, but the door still bore the police department's investigation seal.

'Poor Sack. Hell of a way to go. He went out protectin' Tara and the kid. Gotta be Hell on Tara and Jax. I can only imagine how I'd feel if one of the girls was kidnapped. Already know how I'd feel if somethin' happened to Cat.'

He shrugged the thoughts away and locked the bike, turning quickly at the sound of an approaching car engine. He relaxed when he recognized Tara's Olds pulling up behind the flatbed.

"Hi, Doc!" he walked up to her as she got out of the car.

"Hi, Tig. Just came from your house. Cat's all cleaned up and dinner's ready. I just came by to get Jax's key so you wouldn't have to worry about it."

"Thanks. How's she doing?" he handed Jax's key over to the doctor.

Tara sighed in frustration. "She's won't take the pain meds we sent home with her, says she doesn't want to be in a fog all day."

"Welcome to my world, Doc," Tig laughed, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder. "Is she OK?"

"She's feeling a little rough around the edges. The eye's fine. You did a great job changing the bandage this morning."

"Thanks. But what I wanna know is if she's fit enough for me to leave her?" he asked worriedly. "She says she is, but I have a feeling she's holding out on me."

"She's physically weak, Tig, but that's nothing that some rest won't fix. We let her do too much yesterday. Lyla and I pampered her."

"That's good of you. She deserves it."

Tara frowned at him. "She didn't deserve those hand print bruises on her upper arms. I didn't measure them, but am willing to bet you put 'em there last night when you grabbed her in the back yard."

Tig's face reddened with embarrassment and shame. "Guilty as charged, Doc. I feel like a heel. Cat's not mad about it; she forgave me, said she knew it wasn't deliberate."

Tara glared at him another moment. "Cat didn't mention the bruises to me, Tig. It's part of my training to notice these things. If I didn't believe you were just upset over her leaving the hospital, I'd have you up on charges. As it is, if you _ever_ take your temper out on her, I'll be the first to help her pack!"

"You won't have to, Doc," he promised. "Cat's already put me on notice. Nearly losin' her once is about all I can take!"

Tara's expression softened. "I'll check on her while you're gone, probably make a nuisance of myself. Between Lyla and me, she'll be well looked after."

'I was kinda hopin' you'd say it'd be better if I stuck around.' Tig lifted his hand from Tara's shoulder as his other hand rubbed the bridge of his nose. "There's somethin' you're not tellin' me, doc. My girl's physically OK, but what's goin' on in her head?"

'I'm not going to betray Cat's trust, but I don't want you worrying yourself crazy, either,' Tara was touched by the evident care and concern he felt for Cat.

In her few previous dealings with Tig, she'd thought he was a cold, unfeeling man who had no qualms with doing whatever needed to be done, including murder. 'Watching you with Cat, it's like you're a whole different person. One you don't let the club see.' She decided to try to put his mind at ease.

"Cat's PTSS ia a little heightened right now. That's bound to happen after an event like that wreck. Losing Sack is tough on her, too. The anti – anxiety drug will help control that, providing she takes it."

Tig closed his eyes in relief. "I'll make it happen," he promised her, indicating he knew which drug she meant.

"I made her take a dose before Lyla and I left. Even made her prove she didn't palm it," the doctor replied wryly. "She'll probably get a little rest before you get home."

"Thanks for offerin' to check on her. A friend of hers is comin' to work at the hospital on a temp basis and will be stayin' with her. Maybe she'll behave with the two of ya keepin' an eye on her."

"No problem, Tig," Tara grinned. "I suspect you already put the word out to her employees not to let her do too much."

He gave her a shocked, innocent look.

"Just as I thought," she laughed. "Want me to take Chuckie to the clubhouse? I'm going that way."

"Nah. We've got an errand. See ya later," he replied, climbing into the flatbed's cab.

Tara waved them off and climbed into the Olds, backing it onto the street and pulling away with a friendly wave.

"Where are we going, Tig?" Chuckie inquired.

"Impound. Saw a car there that I wanna fix up for Cat. She mentioned a car she really wanted. It's not what she had when she was runnin' booze in her college years. It's better. Or will be when I'm done with it."

"I accept that. Didn't know she was once an outlaw. She seems so upright."

Tig smiled with pride. "Yeah. That's my girl. She behaves like a straight arrow, but she's got an outlaw spirit. She ran booze for pocket money back then. She's got a lot of stories to tell. Ask her to tell you about it. That'll help her pass the time while I'm gone."

They rode in silence for awhile. Then Chuckie ventured an observation, "You don't really want to leave her."

"You're right. I don't," Tig admitted, more to himself than to Chuckie. "It helps that she understands why I've gotta do this. Hell, she damn near kicked me outta the house, she was so agreeable! Almost makes me wonder if she _wants_ me gone!"

Chuckie shook his head. "It's not like that, Tig. She'd rather you didn't have to leave. But you're right, she's really OK about it."

"And you know this because?"

Chuckie flushed. "I kinda overheard her talk with Lyla and Tara. She had a lot of good insights to give them about alpha males."

Tig grinned wolfishly. "You kinda overheard my ass! You were eavesdropping!"

"I accept that," Chuckie grinned. "She also told the girls that she's aware you're gonna tap some skirt while you're gone, just like you did in Nevada. But as long as it doesn't follow you home, she's not going to think about it. Said it would drive both of you 'nerts'."

Tig grinned again, though the depth of Cat's flexibility surprised him. 'I never told her about tappin' those chicks in Nevada. She knew all this time and never threw it in my face!'

"She had this really funny way of explainin' why she's OK with you havin' road sex," Chuckie added. "She quoted this actor fella from a movie, who said men were like bees going from flower to flower, but women were flowers that weren't allowed to go from bee to bee."

"Hell, what man wants sloppy seconds?" Tig grinned. "Road sex is just that, gettin' a piece. Means nothin'."

"That's what Cat said." Chuckie replied. "I wouldn't tap any local skirt if I were you, unless you want to meet a rusty bottle cap!"

The only reply Tig could muster was a broad, knowing grin.

He pulled the flatbed into the impound lot, stopping at the outbuilding to display the paid receipt.

Officer Eglee was still working in the lot and opened the gate for the truck. "Cat's PT has already been towed off," she offered.

"Good. The sooner Cat gets rid of that rental car, the happier she'll be," Tig observed. He pulled the flatbed to the spot where the rusted Dodge Challenger was parked.

"That's what you're going to fix up?" Chuckie whistled soundlessly. "That's gonna take a lot of work!"

"Yeah. She's worth it. And it might be of use to the club," Tig replied, backing the flatbed to the front of the rusted vehicle.

"Was her PT really as bad as I heard?" Chuckie asked, getting out to help attach the chains to Tig's purchase.

"Prolly worse. Depends on what you heard."

"That it was all smashed in on the passenger and driver's side. Heard it was cut up on top like a sardine can. Glad she survived."

'So am I.' Tig grunted a few times while attaching the chains to the rusted hulk, then powered the winch to pull the vehicle onto the flatbed. The battered old vehicle looked fierce and ready for action despite its' neglected state.

"That'll be one awesome car when it's fixed up!" Chuckie noted.

"That's the plan. C'mon, let's get outta here. I've seen enough of this lot to last me awhile."

"I accept that," Chuckie replied, climbing into the cab.

With the women and Chuckie gone, the house was too quiet for Cat. She slipped a cassette of instrumental favorites into the stereo. Uplifted by the sounds of '_Tubular Bells Part Two' _ she decided to do some internet work while she waited for Alex to come home.

"I might as well start looking for a replacement for the PT; only have a week. There's no way he'll find out I disobeyed doctors orders!"

She settled in front of the computer, turned it on, and logged onto the internet. She pulled up an auto search and compare engine, and entered a search for PT Cruisers for sale in the area.

Several responses appeared on the search, which she narrowed to the current model year. She added preferences for automatic transmission and the colors black and blue. That narrowed her choices to five, three of which were offered by the same dealership.

One of the choices was exactly what she'd described earlier to Alex. A black Turbo GT Cruiser. 'Hmm. Leather seats, A/C – like I _really_ need that! - stereo with cassette and CD player and satellite for cripe's sake! Tilt steering, four doors, anti – lock brakes. Not a convertible, but has a moon roof, which'll make Alex happy. Just 2000 miles on it, so already broken in.'

She clicked on the slide show for the vehicle, which showed the exterior and the interior. The dash was updated, with digital readings for speed, tachometer, engine temperature and gas level. A small analog clock was embedded in the center of the dash, just above the window controls.

A glint of silver on the stick shift control caught her eye. The _MF6's_ had been contoured. The shift knob for this PT was much different.

She clicked on the picture to enlarge it. "I don't believe it!" she laughed. The knob on top of the shifter was sculpted to look like a snarling big cat. To her surprise and delight, the floor mats were shaped like a large cat as well.

She scrolled down to the price and breathed a sigh of relief. 'It's right in the ballpark figure the adjuster gave, and I really like it. There's my _Black Beauty.' _

She sent an email to the seller, explaining that she was in the market and interested, and to give her a call the next afternoon. 'The ban on activities should be lifted by then, and I should have the final offer from the adjuster.'

She logged off and powered down the computer, feeling restless and bored. The medicine hadn't kicked in. 'Might as well get the laundry done so he'll have clean clothes to take with him,' she ventured into the bedroom, sorted the dirty clothes, and carried a load to the washer.

Tig pulled the flatbed to a stop near the clubhouse entrance long enough to drop off Chuckie's footlocker next to the picnic table. "It'll be a'right for a few minutes. No sense luggin' it all the way from the back of the lot," he stated.

"I accept that."

He pulled the flatbed towards the back of the garage, where the various storage units were located, and backed the truck to one of the empty, larger - sized ones. Within minutes they had the rusted Challenger unloaded and sitting in the unit.

Tig stared at the rusted hulk, seeing it as he imagined it would look once he had restored it. 'Might be stupid to let it sit in here over a week. At least it won't deteriorate any further.'

"That's one mean looking machine," Chuckie observed. The grille and headlight configuration made the older model vehicle look as if it were frowning menacingly. Though aged and weatherbeaten, the car hinted at being powerful.

"It'll be even meaner when I'm done with it," Tig assured him. "Not a word to her, got that?"

"I accept that."

Tig shut and locked the door to the storage unit and the pair walked across the lot to the clubhouse entrance, stopping long enough for Tig to pick up Chuckie's footlocker.

"'Ey, Tig! Bobby wuz lookin' fer ye earlier!" Chibs called out as he and Chuckie entered the clubhouse's main room. "'E'll be back inna few."

"A'right," Tig acknowledged. "I'll be getting Chuckie settled in a room."

Chibs hoisted his beer bottle in a mock salute. "Ach! Ye got 'er ta agree w'ye, then! I'm shocked!"

Tig led Chuckie to the part of the clubhouse where apartments were set up, stopping at a particular door. At a nod from Tig, Chuckie opened the door and stepped inside, checking out the surroundings, including the small attached bathroom.

Tig followed him inside and set the footlocker on the floor in front of the bed. "Not much; bed, dresser, desk, bathroom, and chair. Small television, but no VCR or dvd player."

"It's a place to stay, that's really all I need. Believe me, I've been in worse," Chuckie assured him.

"Well, this worked for me for a while, so it should be a'right for you," Tig replied.

Clay walked past the open door and glanced inside, spotting Tig and Chuckie. He leaned against the door frame, his mouth clamped on a lit stogie. "Gettin' the guy settled in."

"Yeah," Chuckie replied.

"Good. You can get started this evenin' at earnin' your keep. KP duty – pick up trash, sweep the floor, bar tend. Guess you're not able to wash dishes yet, can ya?"

Chuckie held up his bandaged hands. "Dr. Tara said not to get 'em wet for a while. Bathing's OK, but not that kind of wet."

Clay's eyebrows furled for a moment. "A'right. We can use some help in the garage office with answerin' phones and assistin' customers, too. Cat take losin' ya as an employee a'right?"

Chuckie shook his head. "She expects me to continue on at the coffeehouse, though she did say I might be a little late tomorrow. She's planning on picking me up and bringing me back."

"That's between you and Cat, then. Get to it!" Clay barked, sauntering on down the hall.

"His bite is worse than his bark," Tig murmured reassuringly.

"I accept that."

They walked out of the room and back into the main part of the clubhouse. Chuckie began picking up discarded beer bottles and other trash while Tig helped himself to a beer at the bar.

Bobby walked into the clubhouse from the garage, spied Tig standing at the bar and ambled over. He removed an envelope from his cut and slid it across the bar. "Your travel funds. Do you have the throwaway with you? Wanna get the number."

Tig removed the throwaway from his pocket and read off the number to Bobby, who stored it in his own cell. "D'ya have Gemma's yet?"

Tig shook his head. "Figured I'd pick one up when I get closer to meetin' up with Gemma. Draw less attention that way."

Bobby nodded. "Makes sense. Clay told me the name you chose to use for wiring money. Where did you come up with a name like that? You're not even close to being Black Irish despite your hair color."

"Cat's late husband's name. He wasn't Irish either. He was Asian," Tig replied in a dead – pan manner.

Bobby winced and scrubbed his face with his hand. "Then I guess it'll work for ya. It's certainly not one that'll stand out."

The phone rang just as Cat settled onto the sofa to relax. 'Probably Alex callin' in to check on me!' She glanced at the caller ID, expecting to see Alex's cell number, to find a different number displayed on the screen. "Well, I'll be!" She grinned and picked up the receiver. "Hey, kittenface!"

"Hey, chick!" June chirped. "Long time, no talk. Been readin' plenty about y'all in the newspaper online."

Cat winced. "Good news travels fast."

"Y'all could say that. What the fuck were y'all thinkin', leavin' the hospital so soon?"

"Takin' care of business, darlin'. They'd upgraded me from critical to satisfactory and were gonna move me out of critical care anyway, might as well save the money and recover at home."

"That's a fine cover story for your Dad, but this is _me_ you're talkin' to. I'm not acceptin' the Reader's Digest condensed version!"

"Then you know why I had to get out of the hospital, darlin'. Did you call just to yell at me? Trust me, y'all ain't alone."

June laughed softly. "No, chick. I called because the contractor is sendin' me out to St. Thomas for a week. Wondered if y'all would like a little company."

"Ya already talked to Alex about this, didn't y'all?" Cat replied, a slight accusatory tone in her voice. "Y'all already knew he's goin' outta town! Is there really a job, or did he invite y'all to keep an eye on me?"

"Oh, there's a job all right, but he _did_ suggest I stay with y'all, seein' as how the nearest hotel is in Oakland. He called earlier. I got the impression he would've suggested it if I wasn't already headin' your way."

"Darlin', I'd love to have y'all here. Seems like eons since we've seen each other. I miss ya."

"Miss y'all too. I'm comin' into LAX first, then connecting to Sacramento tomorrow. Should arrive late afternoon," June replied soothingly. "I've still got the GPS, and will be getting a rental as usual."

Cat drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Are you sure y'all wanna stay here, darlin'? Things are crazier than the media reports would have y'all believe."

"Alex leveled with me. He reminded me there are no guarantees in life, but that his club would be watchin' out for us. Can't be any worse than Eastside Indianapolis," June assured her.

"I'll be watchin' for y'all, then. The driveway is being contaminated by the presence of a Shabby Lay," Cat stated in a tone that begged for sympathy.

"The stench can be washed off," June laughed. "I'll see ya tomorrow, chick!"

Cat laughed and turned off the cordless phone, setting it on the table next to the sofa. The washer had finished its' cycle, so she loaded Alex's clothes in the dryer, turned it on, then curled back up on the couch. The pill Tara had made her take had finally started to kick in, making her drowsy. Though she fought against it, the day's activities caught up with her and she was soon sound asleep.

Alex pulled the Dyna into the driveway and parked next to the rental. He shut down the engine, removed his helmet, and dismounted from the bike while gazing at his home, appreciating anew the sense of contentment and belonging that flooded him whenever he set foot on his own property.

The drapes to the living room were wide open so that he could see Cat lounging on the sofa, dressed in the same caftan she'd worn the night he'd been released from the SJCCF. Despite the cast and the bandage over her eye, she looked beautiful to him.

He ran another check of the exterior with the detector then walked into the house, placing his helmet on the hook inside the coat closet. He sniffed the air appreciatively. The aroma from the kitchen made his mouth water.

His brows furled in momentary frustration at the sound of the dryer running. 'I _knew _she'd be up to somethin' while I was gone! Prolly washed every stitch I own! I appreciate it, but she didn't need to go to the trouble!'

He walked into the bedroom and laid his cut and gun - and knife - holsters on the dresser, then washed the dirt and grime from his hands and arms. He returned to the living room and sat down on the floor next to the sofa, just watching her sleep and listening to the music that was playing.

Eventually, his hand slipped up under the silk fabric, sliding along her leg while he gazed at her. He smiled at one the few semi – classical tunes he could tolerate, the '_Han and Leia Suite' _from 'Star Wars'.

"Hey, baby," he crooned softly to her. "Wake up."

She stretched and smiled at him without opening her eye. "Hey back, love."

His hand continued caressing her, moving up her leg to her thigh before sliding higher along her waist and ribcage. His fingers rested briefly against the incision where the tube had re inflated her lung a few days earlier. 'Feels OK. Not hot or anything,' he noted with relief.

"Mmmm," she murmured, stretching out a hand to caress his cheek. "That feels nice."

His hand continued roaming over her body under the silky fabric. "Y'know, I seriously thought about us getting outta here, maybe go somewhere nice for dinner."

"But the girls made dinner for us!" she protested weakly.

"I noticed. Besides, you look comfortable lyin' there. I don't wanna make ya get all dolled up," he replied slyly.

"That's good," she murmured. "Cause I'd really rather stay here with y'all. Consider me selfish, but I don't even wanna share ya with the cats!"

Alex laughed outright. "That's a first! You've _never _excluded the furry ones from anything before! I like the way you think, baby, cause I really don't wanna share ya with anyone myself!"

The doorbell rang, making both of them jump. "Who the fuck could _that _be?" he growled, glaring at the offending door. "The club knows better than to stop by!"

"So do the 'kids'," she replied, glancing past him to the driveway. "There's a strange car parked in front of the Shabby Lay, love. Maybe you'd better see who it is. They can tell we're home; all the vehicles in the drive are a giveaway."

"Shit! I left my gun and knife in the bedroom!" Alex jumped to his feet, looking around for anything that might serve as a weapon.

The doorbell rang again, sounding quite insistent. Cat reached under the sofa pillow where her head had lain, withdrawing her gun with a small smile. "Go ahead and answer the door, love. I've got yer back."

"I love you, woman!" he grinned wickedly.

The pronouncement slipped out without him realizing he'd said it.

Cat inwardly gasped, but quickly took refuge in a line from Han Solo and replied, "I know."

Alex walked carefully to the door and peeked through the spy hole. "Relax, baby. It's your buddy, Frosty." He waited until she hid the gun away and opened the door.

"I was beginning to wonder if I was interrupting anything between the two of you," Frosty grinned, unaware of how close he'd come to being a human target.

"C'mon in, Frost. Take a load off," Cat called out as Alex stepped aside to allow him access to their home.

"How'd you know where we live?" Alex asked sharply, still unnerved by his sudden and unexpected appearance.

"The employees told me, once they knew I was an old friend of Cat's. Being Facebook friends helped," Frosty replied, shaking hands with Alex before walking over to the sofa. Cat was watching him with an amused expression on her face.

"Pretty resourceful for never having worked as a reporter," she remarked, standing to exchange hugs with her friend.

"I learned from one of the best," he remarked. "You look less beat up than the last time I saw you. Are you sure you should've left the hospital so soon?"

"If I had a dollar for every time I've been asked that!" she grimaced and sat down on the sofa, gesturing at the recliner across the way.

Alex sat on the sofa next to her, smiling grimly at Frosty, while Dovrak's '_Largo_' played in the background. "Everyone's been askin' her that, man. Watch out that she doesn't throw somethin' at you."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Frosty grinned back. "I used to work mornings with her, and know how grouchy she can be."

"Hello! I'm right here!" Cat growled. "Quit talkin' about me in front of me!"

The two men glanced at each other and exchanged large grins. "Want a beer?" Alex asked.

"Thought you'd never offer!" Frosty replied.

Alex stood up and walked to the refrigerator, withdrew two beers, and handed one to Frosty on the way back to the sofa.

"Thanks! I was feeling a mite parched!" Frosty opened his bottle and took an appreciative swig. Alex did likewise.

"You two and your beer!" Cat remarked with a laugh. "To answer your earlier question, Frost, I _had_ to leave the hospital. People needed me outta there."

"Yeah, so I heard. The murders up here made the wire," Frosty replied. "I'm sorry to hear about your man being killed," he added, gazing sympathetically at Alex.

"Yeah. So are we," Alex took a large swallow of his beer.

"So what in Hell brought you back here, Frosty?" Cat inquired, quickly steering the conversation to safer waters. "I realize you were concerned for me, but wouldn't it have been easier to call?"

"It would've, but I needed to make a special delivery," he replied, digging into his shirt pocket and removing a velvet bag, which he handed to Alex.

He opened the bag and shook the contents into his palm. He gave a low whistle of appreciation as the sight of their wedding rings.

Cat reached out to pick up Alex's, holding it to her good eye to examine it. The snarling jaguar glared back at her, blue jeweled eyes glistening in the light. She turned it over and noted there was engraving along the inside.

"_My Cat is my heart_," she looked over at Alex and winked at him.

Alex didn't see the wink, though he heard the slight catch in her voice as she read the inscription. He was looking at the two cats on her ring, one a little larger than the other, their tails twined together. The larger cat wore a red jeweled collar, the smaller one a blue one. He realized that the stones weren't garnet and topaz as he'd requested.

"Shit, Frosty! You went whole hog on these! What do I owe ya?"

Frosty shook his head. "Not a damn red cent. Consider it a belated wedding present."

"Aw, c'mon, man! I can't let ya do that!" Alex protested.

"You can, and you will," Frosty replied resolutely. "Don't argue, cause you're gonna lose, my friend."

"I'm getting used to that, and don't you go there, woman!" Alex glared at Frosty, then at Cat, who was struggling not to laugh. "A'right," he sighed. "Thanks, man."

Pachebel's '_Chorale' _began playing, Alex recognized it as the same piece that had played during their Vegas wedding. He instantly recalled Cat walking down the aisle in the small church towards him just a few months earlier.

Alex grinned, took Cat's hand in his and slid the twin cats ring on her finger where it belonged. "I gave you this thing once. Now I give it back to you and promise you never hafta hide it again," he promised.

Cat then took his hand in hers, kissed the snarling jaguar and slipped it on his finger. "I gave y'all this ring, and now return it to y'all to proudly wear. Yer people remain my people, and I'll always be here for y'all. There will be no more hidin' this symbol from the world."

Disregarding Frosty's presence, Alex cupped her cheeks in both hands and drew Cat's face to his. His eyes shone with his love for her. He kissed her deeply, sealing the promise they made to each other in Las Vegas and renewed at that moment.

Frosty smiled indulgently, comforted by the commitment between his two friends, and took another swig of his beer. The aroma from the kitchen made his stomach growl noisily, and reminded the couple they had an audience.

Cat's mouth smiled against Alex's. "Somebody's hungry."

Alex's stomach gurgled in agreement. "Don't you think it's time ya fed me, woman?"

"Yes, love. I believe so," she grinned, standing up and turning to her friend. "Do y'all mind reheated chili?"

"Bambi, I hope," Frosty replied.

"Wouldn't offer a former Hoosier anything else," she retorted. "Just give me a minute." She ladled a large helping of chili into a bowl, covered it, and set in the microwave.

While the men waited in the living room, she set another place at the table for Frosty. Then she withdrew the steaks and the casserole from the oven.

The telephone rang, but Cat made no move to answer it. "Let it go to voice mail, love," she called.

Alex had already picked up the handset in the living room. "Is Cat Marshall there?" a male voice inquired.

"She's busy. Who's calling?" Alex replied tersely.

"Ben Stokes of Lodi Chrysler Dodge and Jeep," the male voice replied. "Ms. Marshall emailed about a Turbo GT PT Cruiser on our lot. I wanted to speak with her about the purchase."

"She's not available right now," Alex barked, glaring at the kitchen. 'I knew she was up to mischief! Damn her hide anyway!'

Frosty followed Alex's angry glare and surmised Cat had been caught doing something she shouldn't have. A wry smile crossed his face.

"Will you have her call me when she has a chance?" the salesperson pressed on, oblivious to the fact that he was adding fuel to Alex's smoldering temper.

"She'll call ya tomorrow sometime." Alex hung up the phone with a snort.

"Trouble in paradise?" Frosty inquired.

"You could say that. She went on the internet while I was out." Alex growled, taking a calming pull from his beer.

"That's a problem?"

Alex sighed resignedly. "She was _supposed_ to rest this afternoon, no internet or anything else that would strain her eyes! She drove the rental back from Oakland today, caused her some distress."

"So Cat was being contrary again. She's good about that, Alex."

"You're preachin' to the choir, man! She's obstinate, stubborn, pig – headed, annoying, frustrating - "

"And you love her for it," Frosty interjected with a knowing grin. "Go easy on her, man. If I know insurance companies, they didn't give her much time to get a replacement."

"I know that, man. Couldn't she give herself _one_ day of rest?" Alex protested.

"I remember when her left leg was in a cast from toe to just below the knee. She couldn't drive the car, so she rode the bike instead. Caused quite a stir in Terre Haute when she did it, got her picture in the paper."

Alex nodded, his hand massaging the bridge of his nose. "She mentioned somethin' about that earlier."

"She always finds ways around obstacles."

"Shit! Sometimes she just barges right through 'em!"

"That, too," Frosty grinned, lifting his beer in a salute.

Oblivious to the storm brewing in the next room, Cat withdrew Frosty's chili from the microwave and set out the fixings from the night before. "Dinner time!" she called out.

"I think we're being summoned," Frosty observed.

"I _know _we are, but this is one summons I don't mind gettin'!" Alex replied. "Don't worry, I won't bust her chops about the call."

"I apologize that you're gettin' leftovers, Frost," Cat admitted as the men settled themselves at the table. "I had a little help with supper, and we weren't expectin' company."

"That's OK, kitten. I should've called first, but wanted to get checked in at the B and B before it got too late," he replied.

Cat and Alex exchanged relieved glances that they wouldn't have to entertain an overnight guest. Frosty grinned at their expressions, adding, "Something tells me this is a special night for you two."

Cat lifted her eyebrow inquiringly at Alex, who nodded slightly. "Might as well fill him in, baby."

Frosty glanced questioningly from Alex to Cat. "Fill me in on what?"

"You said you heard about some deaths up here on the wire. Just what exactly did you read?" Cat inquired, gazing intently at her friend.

'They've both gotten really tense all of a sudden. The answer's really important to them,' Frosty couldn't ignore the silent plea in Cat's good eye, nor miss how stiff Alex's posture had become.

"The wire story started off with the stand - off between Alex's club and that other outfit in the middle of town. Then came the news of the body found at the tattoo parlor, later identified as some guy named A J Weston. That was followed by Zobelle's escape from town, then a double murder in Galt. After that came the report about the murder and kidnapping. Then the Amber Alert for the Teller kid was lifted."

Frosty glanced from Cat to Alex, then back at Cat, whose eyes suddenly fell to her plate. His eyes widened in horror and comprehension. "The kid's still missing, isn't he?"

Cat nodded. "The ATF called off the Alert, darlin'. I believe the agent did it cause I pissed her off last night. She came lookin for the suspect in the Galt shootin's and I wouldn't let her search here without a warrant."

'I thought she'd gotten over that!' Alex's eyes widened with surprise at her admission and renewed anger over Stahl's audacity. "Baby, get that idea outta your head right now!" His hand reached out to her, gripping her chin so that she couldn't look away from him.

Frosty glanced from Alex to Cat again, taking in his righteously angry glower and her pain filled expression. "Look, I don't understand what's been going on around here, but I _do _understand that you're beatin' yourself up for no good reason! You tend to do that when it's not necessary, kitten!"

"You speak like you've experienced this before with her, Frost." Alex replied dryly.

"She felt the same guilt way when we worked together and made a mistake that wasn't her fault. Dumb error caused by someone else, but she felt responsible for it. Damn near quit the station because of it."

Alex nodded his head, his thumb caressing her lips. "That's my girl, a'right. What's got ya all riled up, baby? Did Tara or Lyla say somethin' to you about it?"

Cat shook her head. "No. Tara and I talked about it. She didn't blame me. It's just that I can't help feelin' that the timin' was pretty co – incidental, comin' so soon after I chased Stahl away from here. Had I let her just look around, the Amber Alert wouldn't have been called off and Abel wouldn't still be missin'!"

"That's bullshit, baby! That gash canceled the Amber Alert to hurt us, and to draw Gemma back. You _know_ that Clay doesn't hold ya responsible!" Alex's eyes darkened with frustration. "Why are ya doin' this to yourself?"

Cat sighed and tried to move her chin away from Alex. He didn't let her go, making it clear he wasn't going to let her get away from his scrutiny.

"Baby, I know you're tired and hurtin', but don't do this! Stahl did what she did out of spite. She would've canceled the Alert anyway! You hafta know that!"

"Who in Hell is this Stahl person, and why is she upsettin' Cat?" Frosty roared, slamming his beer bottle on the table.

Alex looked over at Frosty, though his hand remained on Cat's chin. "Stahl is an ATF agent with a hard – on for puttin' the club in prison. She came here last night lookin' for our president's wife and Cat sent her packin'. A few hours later, Cat got a call from a reporter that the Amber Alert for Abel had been canceled."

"That's not the whole story, Frosty. In for a penny, in for a pound," Cat added. Quietly, she briefed Frosty on the events that led to the double shooting in Galt and what had really happened at the house. She skillfully omitted the fact that the club had an association with the house.

"Gemma shot Zobelle's daughter when the girl drew a gun on her. The male victim was already dead, shot by the agent stakin' out the house, Agent Stahl. She put out a false report that Gemma had killed both parties, which led to Kip being murdered and Abel being kidnapped. The person responsible for those two crimes is the father of the male shooting victim," she explained.

Frosty's initial response was to take a long, reassuring pull from his beer. "If I didn't know you better, Cat, I'd think this was an episode of 'Twilight Zone'."

"It's all true, Frosty," she replied softly. "That's why Gemma is on the lam. Alex is headin' out soon, maybe late tomorrow, to help her stay that way until her innocence can be proven."

"So that makes tonight your last night together for some time," he replied quietly. "Yet you invite me to eat with you like it's no big deal." He shook his head, as if trying to clear cobwebs from his brain.

"You're our friend, Frosty. We wouldn't turn ya away," Alex replied gruffly. 'I'm kinda surprised that's the only thing he's concerned about!'

"I've got to admit, this whole thing seems a little out there," the radio man admitted. "But it's not unusual for a cop of any level to go bad. Remember that state police officer back home?"

Cat nodded. "The one that killed his wife, escaped from jail and was on the lam for months before being brought back for trial."

"Exactly," Frosty replied. "Alex is right; you've _got_ to quit blaming yourself for the Alert getting canceled. Sounds to me like this ATF agent is as rotten as that former cop."

He turned his attention to Alex and added, "It was a big shock to find out you're an outlaw, Alex. But I did a lot of thinking on the way back to LA. I can see how much Cat trusts and loves you. If she says she believes your president's wife is being set up by a rogue Fed, that's good enough for me."

Alex felt a rush of warmth race through him as Frosty reminded him of Cat's deep commitment to him. He reached his hand across the table to Frosty. The other man didn't hesitate to grip Alex's hand in his. "Thanks, man. How long you stayin' in town?"

"Until tomorrow afternoon. The co – horts are doing a remote that didn't include me."

Cat's eye narrowed at that news. "I thought all y'all were a package deal."

"Sometimes, kitten. This is one of those remotes I wanted no part of," Frosty shrugged off her concern. "It gave me the opportunity to come up here."

"Guess y'all wish now that ya didn't," she replied ruefully.

"No, I don't. And stop that kind of talk!" he frowned. "I'm glad to be here and that the timing worked out so that Alex could have his ring for the road."

"Cat's best friend is comin' to stay with her for awhile, but she won't be here until late tomorrow," Alex announced.

Frosty nodded an acknowledgment to Alex's unspoken request. "I'll be glad to keep her company for awhile tomorrow after you leave. Are you hitting the road early?"

"Nah. Draws too much attention. Prolly late afternoon," Alex nodded back, silently thanking the man for catching on. 'I'll feel better knowin' she's not alone until she gets over this guilt trip.'

Cat glared at the two men. "Just what are you two _not _sayin' in front of me?"

"Not a thing, kitten," Frosty replied innocently. "Surely you don't mind me visitin' with you until your friend gets here?"

She glared from Frosty to Alex and back again. "Yeah, right. And don't call me 'Shirley'." she growled.

Frosty grinned and took another pull at his beer. He decided a change of subjects was in order. "You seem to be OK with the idea of Alex headin' out to protect another woman, kitten."

Cat shrugged, accepting Frosty's change of subject and trying to appear non – nonchalant about it. "It's part of his job. I'll miss him, but it's not like he's goin' across the country or the ocean to fight a war."

"Now who's talkin' about who behind whose back?" Alex protested, taking a swig of his beer. Inwardly he was delighted to hear her admit that she was going to miss him.

Frosty and Cat laughed at his protest. "But we're talkin' about y'all in front of yer back, love, not behind it!"

Alex found himself relaxing over Frosty's willingness to accept their situation at face value. The trio continued eating and talking as if they'd been friends for years instead of a few days.

When he'd finished his meal, Frosty stood up and took his dishes to the sink, rinsed them out, and put them in the dishwasher.

"Listen, I'm gonna head to the B and B and give you two some space," he announced, removing their plates from the table. He rinsed them out and placed them in the dishwasher, then placed the leftover casserole in the fridge.

Cat and Alex both got up from the table to see Frosty to the door. He offered to shake hands with Alex, who nudged the hand away and gave the man the 'bro hug double back tap' instead. "You're family, man. Thanks for the rings."

Cat then embraced her friend, planting a kiss on his cheek. "You have a good night's sleep, darlin'. Best call before you drive out here – just in case," she grinned.

"I'll do that. I'd say sleep well, you two, but don't wanna jinx anything," he grinned devilishly at the couple before jogging to the safety of his car.

Cat closed the door and locked it while Alex checked the back door. The cats would be sent into the run when the coffeehouse closed, and would make their way into the house on their own.

Cat checked the voice mail to the landline and frowned to find no messages. "I thought someone called earlier."

"They did. I answered it. You need to call the Lodi Chrysler dealer, some guy named Ben Stokes wants to discuss a new PT with you."

Cat flushed. "Damn! I just can't get away with anything, can I?"

"Maybe you'll take that lesson to heart, wife. It's a'right. You gotta get a replacement, you know what you want. Go for it, baby."

She grinned and walked towards him, her arms going around his waist as she rested her head against his chest.

"So, wife. Think we're finally gonna be left alone?"

"Hard to tell. Maybe we'd better make the most of our private time while we've got it," she replied.

"No reason to hurry, baby. We've got the whole night ahead of us. I've got plenty of things in mind for ya!"

"Somethin' tells me it's gonna be a memorable night!"


End file.
